


Light Years Away

by kidney_bean



Series: Changed Times, Old-fashioned Love [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Depression, F/M, Fix-It, Found Family, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Loss, Miscarriage, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Panic Attacks, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Slow Build, Steve x Reader x Tony friendship, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:00:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 83,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29359914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kidney_bean/pseuds/kidney_bean
Summary: With Bucky gone, you learn how to live on your own again and how to navigate the different stages of grief. Five years is a long time but you never once stopped loving him.AU set during Avengers: Endgame and as always, I advise you to read the other installements of this series as this story isn't a stand-alone.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Changed Times, Old-fashioned Love [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1752592
Comments: 31
Kudos: 33





	1. 2018: Denial

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, you! Yes, you! I hope you're ready to dive in this story because this is going to be one hell of a roller-coaster.
> 
> So just a few heads-up:  
> \- tags will be added as I post each chapter, PLEASE READ THE TAGS CAREFULLY! This story has heavy and dark themes, consider yourself warned!  
> \- This fic is 113k words in total (yes, you read this correctly, this is going to be long) and finished, therefore, will not be abandonned. I intend to update regularly as I just need to edit the second half of it.  
> \- It includes Stony as a background pairing and nowhere will it feature any kind of relationship between them and the reader other than a platonic friendship.  
> \- This is a fix-it with a happy ending. It will take a moment before we see Bucky as I will write what the reader has been up to during these five years without him but I promise you, this is worth the wait.
> 
> Now sit back, relax, and I hope you enjoy :)

The tears didn’t come. 

The shock, however, was startling. It merged into numbness and blind optimism, forcing your way to be the first in line to lead the search and rescue operation by yourself if you had to. You were convinced Bucky, Sam and the rest were still somewhere, waiting to be freed from wherever they got banished to. You didn’t understand yet, couldn’t grasp that what happened was beyond your capabilities, and even with your determination alone, you were clearly outnumbered and outpowered.

Yet the aftermath of Thanos’ snap hadn’t had the same effect on everybody. Whereas you were loud and stubborn to find a solution, anything, any possibility, Steve looked utterly defeated. He was silent but he hadn’t stopped fighting nonetheless. He kept checking the computer screens relentlessly ever since the few of you got back to the compound, watching the alarming global death toll reach three billion.

Beside you and Steve, Natasha, Bruce and Rhodey tagged along. Thor and the talking raccoon you had previously met on the battlefield in Wakanda, Rocket, were there as well but you didn’t see them as much. The atmosphere of The Avengers team semi-reconstructed simply didn’t feel the same anymore. Everybody were shells of themselves, grim-looking and hollow inside. The world broken, you only had each other to not fall apart. 

Concerning Tony, you were left with very little on his whereabouts. The last signal was when he was reported missing on an alien spacecraft. He could be dead, in a pile of dust or captured for all you knew, and you could bet it had a lot to do with Steve’s heavy silence.

Loneliness didn’t sit well with you anymore, this was the hardest part. It had been a couple of weeks already and sleeping was almost non-existent. The dread in the pit of your stomach spreading with each passing day mixed with insomnia was a ticking bomb that was about to explode. It was difficult to find sleep when you occupied a bed where, for the last three years, there used to be somebody to share it with you. Even if it was easier to sleep by Bucky’s side, it didn’t mean you hadn’t had any hard times before. Too many nights you had pretended to be asleep to not bother or worry Bucky, but when you couldn’t fake it, when there were nights you couldn’t stop the anxiety from eating you alive, the worst scenarios swimming through your head, Bucky was there. 

Now there was only empty space and the slow realisation of him not coming back anytime soon.

“This is a nightmare.” Steve said, still looking at the rising number.

“I've had better nightmares.” Natasha replied and you nodded in agreement.

Rhodey walked in, face serious. 

“Hey. So that thing just stopped doing whatever the hell it was doing.”

The thing, as Rhodey called it, was a transmitter device that was housed in a chamber safely. Nobody ever knew to whom exactly was on the receiving end or why Fury had kept it for decades but if he did, it must have been important. Bruce was analyzing it, trying to extract informations, anything useful could be welcome right now. 

“What have we got?” Natasha eyed the device. 

“Whatever the signal is sending, it finally creeped off.” Bruce said, he was clearly as agitated as the rest of you.

“I thought we bypassed the battery.” Steve countered.

“We did. It's still plugged in, it just... it just stopped.” Rhodey said.

“What happens now?” You crossed your arms against your chest, not trusting this thing in the slightest.

“Reboot and send the signal again.” Steve ordered and Bruce looked uneasy.

“We don't even know what this is.”

Natasha interfered, “Fury did. Just do it, please. You tell me the second you get a signal. I want to know who's on the other end of that thing.” 

Natasha turned around and found herself face to face with a woman. All eyes landed on her, you tensed a bit at her sudden and soundless entrance. She could be a threat, you didn’t recognise her and you studied her pale face, unshed tears were threatening to spill from her eyes.

“Where’s Fury?” 

“Who are you?” You approached her warily.

“I’m Fury’s friend. Haven’t heard about him for decades until…” She eyed the transmitter and your brows furrowed.

“ _Decades_?” You moved in front of her to force the woman to look you in the eyes. “You’re enhanced?”

“Did something happen to him?” She pressed, stubbornly trying to coax an answer out of you.

You sighed and outstretched your hand in her direction, “I’m Y/N.” She took your hand in hers and you shook hands. “Before we answer your questions, we need to know a little more about you. You have to understand, not everybody can come in here as they please without even FRIDAY detecting you.”

“Carol.” She nodded minutely at you and you gave her a guarded smile, counting this as a win. “I met Fury twenty five years ago. It’s a long story but we promised each other that if anything happened on Earth, I would come back when he needs me. I guess he did.”

“A lot happened these past years, where were you then?” Natasha stepped in and you raised a hand, trying to keep the situation even.

“Listen, this is Natasha, Steve, Bruce and Rhodey. Do you know who we are?”

“SHIELD?” Carol guessed and you shook your head.

“Not exactly. We were once, it’s complicated. Have you heard about the Avengers?”

Carol shifted and put her hands on her hips, she looked around for the first time, separately watching each of you as if she realised something. “He named you after me.” She simply said, her voice barely above a whisper. 

Steve approached and crossed his arms as well. “I’m sorry?”

“Fury. My name in the Air Force was Carol ‘The Avenger’ Danvers. It was even written on…” She stopped herself and walked away. 

“Hey! Hey, wait!” You chased after her. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to find him.” She told you, her face hard and determined.

“I’m afraid it won’t be that easy. Trust me, we tried. Half the population on the planet is gone, Carol. It’s bigger than any of us. We lost our team, too. And my--” You averted your eyes and took a deep breath, clenching your hands in a fist. “Friends. Family. Everybody lost somebody important to them, you’re not the only one.” 

Carol softened at your words and gave you a knowing look. “Tell me everything.”

“If you stay with us, we’ve got a chance. We need all the help me can get.”

There was a pregnant pause, the clock ticking louder in your ears as you saw the gears in her head turning. 

“I gave my word to Fury. I will help you.”

You straightened unconsciously, rolling your shoulders as they slumped in relief. You gave her a thankful nod and she, in return, offered a smile.

* * *

That night, sleep came easier to you. Carol’s arrival was full of promises and hope stirred once again. You had a chance, a better one now that she was here and the thought made you fall asleep with your heart lighter than it had been for days.

Your dreamless sleep was short-lived as you awoke with a start in the middle of the night. You blinked slowly, adjusting to the darkness of your bedroom. Something had woken you up but there was nothing in your line of vision to understand what exactly did. You stilled, feeling a presence in the room and listened for a noise, a clue, _something_.

The door was ajar, that alarmed you. You remembered clearly closing the door before going to bed, although not locking it, but shutting it? You always did. You tensed and grabbed the knife resting under your pillow -- Bucky’s knife -- and quietly propped yourself on your elbow, awaiting the threat to show itself. 

A muffled sound echoed, breaking the tense silence and you gripped the knife tightly, your knuckles turning white on the handle. 

Somebody sniffled and you felt the covers at the edge of your bed shift. That was when you discerned the shape of someone’s head sitting on the floor at the foot of your bed, their back to you. You finally recognised the sound of liquid slouching in a bottle and the contrast of hard glass hitting soft carpet.

“Steve?” You sat and dropped the knife on your pillow. “Steve.”

Steve didn’t verbally answer you, instead, he let out a croaky grunt and you heard him swallow some more of the liquid that you easily guessed was alcohol. Everybody knew Steve couldn’t get drunk but if he was that desperate to take the edges off by trying the impossible, he really was not alright. 

“Hey, you okay? What’re you doing here at this hour?” You whispered and Steve’s sniffles grew louder. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I shouldn’t be here but I can’t talk about this to anybody else.” Steve’s voice didn’t exactly slur but it was close, similar to a deep exhaustion that made one’s voice lethargic. 

You made your way toward Steve and picked up the bottle. “How many did you drink?”

“It’s my third.” He admitted and you grimaced. 

“You’re lucky you’re a super-soldier, otherwise you’d be in a coma right now.” You sighed and put it down on the other side of the bed. “Do you want to talk about _why_ you’re in my bedroom in the middle of the night?”

“I wish I had a way to stop thinking for a while, _you_ are the lucky one to have that possibility.” 

You snorted in disbelief. “What’s gotten into you? I never saw you like this.”

Steve winced and leaned his head against the bedding, closing his eyes. His face was blurred by the pitch-black darkness of the night so you got out of your bed, switching on the light on your nightstand. The dim light of the lamp highlighted the room slightly and you caught Steve’s motion of wiping a tear from his eyes just in time. You padded back to him and slid yourself on the floor beside him. Steve’s purposely ignored your gaze but he couldn’t hide his red rimmed eyes from you. 

Steve’s face was a battlefield of emotions. You couldn’t decipher if it was sadness or anger that was winning. Above all, he looked lost, a wreck. 

You intertwined your arms together and his jaw clenched, he tried hard not to lose it in front of you. 

“It’s alright, Steve.” You rubbed his arm gently, “You can cry, there’s nothing wrong with it.” It was too late for dignity and composure anyway.

Steve heaved a heavy, shaky breath and turned his head to you, “I lost him. I love him and I never had the courage to tell him. I should have listened to you and tell him when I had the chance, before what happened in Siberia. This is all my fault.”

“I won’t let you say this. I won’t have it. Bucky wouldn’t, either.” It hurt saying his name but you stayed emotionless for Steve’s sake and his lost chance of opening his heart to Tony.

“God, Bucky.” Steve made a face, “What am I doing here? I don’t have the right to tell you all this when you’re mourning, too. You lost something I wish I’d been strong enough to do with Tony.” His voice wavered at the last words.

“We’re all mourning, Steve. We all lost somebody but you have the benefit of the doubt concerning Tony. He could still be out there, there’s still a chance.”

“I love him and I ruined everything.”

It was two in the morning when Captain America broke down in your arms. 

Calming Steve down was easier said than done. The sound of his sobs were so raw it broke your heart. You’ve never seen Steve cry before and you simply held him, powerless at trying to ease his sorrow. The meticulous façade of the once most loved and respected person in America completely shattered here, on the floor of your bedroom. Steve shook with each sob, your much smaller frame feeling the shudders like they were your own. 

And yet again, the tears didn’t come on your part.

Over the course of the following week, Steve’s mental health didn’t improve. After that night in your bedroom, he hadn’t attempted to get drunk again but he had confessed the numbness he had felt for a short moment made him realise how selfish he had been. It was unfair not only for you but for the team. Steve was the strong one, you promised him the private meltdown wasn’t to be repeated or shared with anyone. Not that Steve cared but keeping up appearances for the sake of everybody would do more good than allowing all of you to give up and retreat in your grief. 

That didn’t mean Steve felt alright. He needed the company, and so did you. 

The soft but regular knocks past midnight on your bedroom door became routine. You couldn’t deny Steve a shoulder to cry on or an ear to listen. Steve and you sat on the floor either talking or silently being there for the other, it depended on how bad Steve’s tears were that night. His hair was a mess, his beard unkempt and untidy. One morning, Natasha even gave him a look but you quickly shook your head at her before she opened her mouth. 

On the fourth night Steve came knocking, you were content enough to see his eyes were dry. Small step toward recovery, you thought. You used the same methods to him you once used on Bucky and Steve was grateful and also still guilty to be another emotional charge on your shoulders. You brushed it off immediately, if you could be the bedrock to Steve Roger’s fragile foundation right now then you would do it. He was your friend and you owed him that much.

It was almost one in the morning when Steve stepped in your room cladded in pyjama pants and a tank top, you were sitting cross-legged on your bed and patted the empty space beside you. Steve hesitantly sat down at the edge of the bed and you rolled your eyes. 

“Lie down with me, I’m tired.” You hid a yawn behind the back of your hand and when Steve didn't respond, you leaned forward and grabbed his arm, dragging him with you.

Steve awkwardly stretched atop the covers and laid on his side, facing you. You mirrored him and gave him an encouraging smile. 

“Have you ever had pyjama parties?” You whispered and Steve finally cracked a smile.

“I did crash on Bucky’s couch more than once. So did he.” Steve replied and his voice was light as he recalled the memories. You hummed, imagining the scene. “Sometimes, we would be drunk and passed out in my bed.” He chuckled and you grinned.

“With no memories of how you got there, I presume.”

“Oh, Buck always has been more responsible than me. Drunk but with his senses still intact. I never knew how he did it.” Steve paused then looked back at you. His eyes wet but the tears didn’t spill. Those were happy souvenirs.

You shifted on the bed and slipped your arm under your pillow, elevating your face to be on Steve’s eye level. “I wish I knew the Bucky from… Before.” 

Steve smiled sadly then made a face, “You would have slapped him. He wasn’t the Bucky you know now.”

“Why? Because he was a ladies’ man? I saw the documentaries, Steve. He wouldn’t even have been my type anyway.” You joked.

There was a pause, just you and Steve sharing a companionable silence at the image of young Bucky, the nostalgia on Steve’s face and wonder on yours.

“Tell me about it,” Steve broke the silence, “The wedding.” He clarified and a genuine smile curled on his lips, a soft look on his face.

You flushed a little under his stare and cleared your throat. “I was _really_ nervous.”

“He said it happened on his birthday, right?”

You nodded, “I know he doesn’t celebrate, never really wanted to so I was apprehensive of his reaction. I cornered him when he woke up, the only moment he’s disoriented enough to catch him off guard. It worked.”

“How did he react?”

“I made him sit down and I was too anxious to stay still so I just gave him a pre-approved and pre-signed document by the Wakandan government hidden in an envelope. I made it as much as a surprise for him. I think I broke him because he froze, staring at the document.” You buried the side of your face deeper in the pillow and continued, “Next thing I knew he kneeled in front of me and asked me to allow him to say yes on his knee, like the gentleman he is.” Steve snorted softly at this.

“A woman asking must have taken him aback.” 

“I know, that’s also why I was nervous.”

“You were clearly overthinking it.”

“ _Obviously_ , Steve.”

Steve laughed and you groaned humorously. 

“I’m glad you found each other. I know how much of a weight it’s been for him to live in the shadow of his past life.”

“I’m sorry, Steve, if we ever hurt you for our past decisions. I hope you understood, you’ve always got our backs and I wish we could have done the same right now. Consider me doing it on his behalf.”

Steve waved a hand and shrugged lightly. “As I told you, I was never crossed about it. I just worried sometimes.” 

“We never planned on staying there for long, I think a year was the minimum for Bucky to catch a break. He did well. But the two years in Wakanda were even better… For the both of us.” You quickly added shyly. 

“Obviously, Y/N.” Steve mimicked you and you turned to lay on your back.

Both your laughs died down after a couple of minutes. You sighed fondly and placed a hand atop your stomach as your eyes slowly fluttered close on their own accord. You fell asleep a moment after. 

Steve laid on the narrow space of your bed, lost in thoughts. He thought about how glad he was to have you by his side and how similar you both felt in your current predicament was dumb luck but at least, you had each other.

His own eyes closed and Steve fell in a dreamless sleep.

* * *

The bed started shaking, slowly at first, and then severely. Your eyes flew open, confusedly glancing at the door but it wasn’t Steve who was knocking tonight because he was right there beside you and looking equally lost. You slid the knife from under your pillow as a reflex and Steve bolted out of the bed and of the room, you following close behind. 

You stumbled upon Natasha and Rhodey in the hallway, Steve didn’t stop in his tracks as the sound outside grew louder and closer. You all joined Steve in the compound’s yard, Natasha, Rhodey and Bruce trailing behind.

You looked at the sky and watched dumbfounded as Carol landed the spacecraft with her bare hands. The landing gears deployed as they touched down. The entry hatch opened, and Tony walked out, supported by a blue woman you didn’t recognize. The air in your lungs got knocked out at the sight of Tony, alive but visibly injured and underweight. 

Steve didn’t hesitate and sped up in his direction to help him stand upright. Tony gripped Steve’s arm as soon as he approached, unsteady on his feet. 

“Couldn't stop him.” Tony said in lieu of greetings. He looked clearly shocked and haunted.

“Neither could I.” 

“I lost the kid.”

“Tony,” Steve softly redirected Tony’s attention on him. “We lost.”

Tony finally turned his head and his eyes grew wide, as if realizing Steve was here. Steve tensed, waiting for the blow but there wasn’t anger in Tony’s eyes. At least, not yet, you thought.

“Let’s get you inside.” Rhodey broke the moment and grabbed Tony’s other arm and gently pulled him forward, ushering him inside the compound. 

You stalled a little in the yard, letting everybody step back inside first. You watched the stars and wondered if they were the same ones you used to gaze at with Bucky in your home in Wakanda just weeks prior. Steve had Tony back and you were happy for him, you truly were relieved of his return but a small, selfish part of you wished to see Bucky descend those stairs as well. 

“What’s up?” You glanced down at Rocket’s figure, “You coming?”

“Yeah, yeah… in a minute.” 

Rocket shrugged and started to walk toward the compound. 

The woman didn’t follow right away, her eyes still on you. You then cocked a brow at her and by the look of her face, she was about to say something but stopped herself, instead she gave you a curt nod and chased after her raccoon friend. 

You counted to sixty and sighed, making your way to the compound.

Rhodey’s voice reached you first when you entered. Tony was sitting at the table, a sweater on his shoulders (which looked strangely familiar. Upon closer inspection, the sleeves dangled and the fabric was loose around him even when zipped closed, it was definitely too large on Tony's body. You were convinced it belonged to Steve) and glasses already sitting on his face, an IV connected to his arm and blood seeped into his vein for healing. He was looking at a holographic casualty report listing the names of those lost to the decimation. When the face of a young boy appeared on screen, he pushed his glasses further on the bridge of his nose and quickly averted his eyes.

_“I lost the kid.”_

Oh.

“It's been twenty-three days since Thanos came to Earth.” Rhodey said, pointing to the screen.

“World governments are in pieces. The parts that are still working are trying to take a census. And it looks like he did... he did exactly what he said he was gonna do. Thanos wiped out fifty percent of all living creatures.” Natasha crossed her arms and looked at Tony.

“Where is he now? Where?” Tony asked.

“We don't know. He just opened a portal and walked through.” Steve answered.

The pictures blurred into one another and when Bucky’s face stared back at you. You swallowed thickly, your heart panged and you took an involuntary step in its direction, your mind and body unconsciously trying to reach out to him. You raised your hand toward his old mugshot for comfort but as soon as your fingers made contact with the heat of the hologram, the picture changed. 

“What's wrong with him?” Tony pointed to a sullen-looking Thor sitting on a bench.

Thor didn’t even register his name or acknowledged Tony’s presence. He looked miserable and seemingly crushed. He reminded you of Steve’s own behavior.

“Oh, he's pissed. He thinks he failed. Which of course he did, but you know there's a lot of that's going around, ain't there?” Rocket said and you nodded sympathetically. 

“Honestly, until this exact second, I thought you were a Build-A-Bear.”

“Maybe I am.” Rocket retorted and you couldn’t help but notice the hint of hurt in his voice.

“We've been hunting Thanos for three weeks now. Deep Space scans, and satellites, and we got nothing. Tony, you fought him.” Steve intervened. 

“Who told you that?” Tony looked surprised. “I didn't fight him. No, he wiped my face with a planet while the Bleecker Street Magician gave away the stone. That's what happened. There was no fight.” He finished bitterly.

“Okay.” Steve surrendered.

“He's unbeatable.”

“Did he give you any clues, any coordinates, anything?”

“ _Pfft!_ I saw this coming a few years back. I had a vision. I didn't wanna believe it. Thought I was dreaming.”

You watched Tony with a frown, wondering if the rush of blood made him delusional or not.

“Tony, I'm gonna need you to focus.”

Tony started to seethe. “And I needed you. As in past tense. That trumps what you need. It's too late, buddy. Sorry. You know what I need?” Tony stood suddenly, pushing things off the table with a clatter. You winced at the noise. “I need to shave. And I believe I remember telling all--”

Tony went for Steve, Rhodey quickly came in front of him, trying to stop him.

“Tony, Tony. _Tony!”_

"--Alive and otherwise what we needed was a suit of armor around the world! Remember that? Whether it impacted our precious freedoms or not-- that's what we needed!" 

“Well, that didn't work out, did it?” Steve said, the epitome of patience.

“I said, 'we'd lose'. You said, ‘We'll do that together too.’ And guess what, Cap? We lost. And you weren't there. But that's what we do, right? Our best work after the fact? We're the Avengers, we're the Avengers! Not the _Prevengers_.” Tony became increasingly agitated and stepped near Steve.

“Okay.” Rhodey held Tony’s arm again just in case, seeing that Tony was still swaying on his feet.

“Right?” Tony asked him.

“You made your point. Just sit down.” 

“Okay…”

“Okay?” 

“No, no. Here's my point. You know what?” Tony started again.

“Tony, you're sick.” Rhodey tried to drag him to the chair.

“She's great, by the way.” Tony referred to Carol who was standing to the side, watching the whole scene with stupor. 

“Sit down. Sit.” Rhodey insisted. 

But Tony ignored him. “We need you. You're new blood. Bunch of tired old mules!” And there it was. The anger you dreaded earlier finally erupted from Tony. He walked right up to Steve’s face, his voice down to a harsh whisper. “I got nothing for you, Cap! I got no coordinates, no clues, no strategies, no options. Zero. Zip. Nada. No trust.” Tony glanced at you, finally acknowledging your presence beside Steve then spat out a single word in a low, venomous voice that were aimed solely for yours and Steve’s ears, “ _Liars_.”

The whole interaction felt way too familiar as Tony walked past you, not giving you anymore attention. Recollecting the moment Bucky and you got into custody in Berlin, the reunion as bitter and ugly as it was back then. You didn’t hold him accountable for his behavior right now, he was still visibly mentally three weeks behind, he needed to take everything in.

Steve looked affected by Tony's words. The old friends just gazed at each other. After a moment, Tony ripped out his Arc Reactor from his chest and shoved it into Steve's hand.

“Here, take this. You find him, and you put that on. You hide.”

“Tony, that’s unfair.” You told him. “You’re angry and still in shock, we get it, but don’t say words you don’t mean.”

Tony let out an incredulous laugh, “I’m saying the cold truth, should have seen it coming from the both of you ages ago.”

Tony sidestepped Steve and focused his attention toward you. “Are you here only because you miss this little _boyfriend_ of yours?”

“ _Bucky_ is my husband now.” You squeezed the handle of the knife in your pocket, readying yourself.

The confession drew the room’s eyes on you, eyebrows were raised and the whole atmosphere shifted. Tony himself stilled for a second but recovered quickly.

“Well, congratulations are in order, then. You two deserve each other.” Tony huffed, sarcasm and bitterness tinged his voice. He absently grazed the spot on his chest now free of his arc reactor, phantom pain of the day you shot him in Siberia. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You have your own agenda, your own motives, you’ve abandoned us long before Cap did. All of this for the person who killed my parents!”

“Enough!” That was the last straw. What you did next wasn’t something you came to be proud of later on, regret washing over you instantly as you pulled out Bucky’s knife and aimed at Tony. The sharp, pointy end making contact with the exposed skin of Tony’s chest. “I’m sick of hearing this. I won’t hear any of this again.”

“Go on, then. Finish what you once started.” Tony took a step forward, the tip of the blade piercing his skin in a shallow cut, drawing a small drop of blood.

“Y/N.” Rhodey said slowly as a warning, “Put the knife down.”

Everybody tensed, the small group gathered around the two of you, figuring out a way to stop the unnecessary confrontation. 

“Please.” Steve reached out and tugged at your other arm. “I think we’re all a little on edge but that’s not the solution.”

The blade clicked back into its enclosure and you slipped it back in your pocket. 

Tony wobbled dangerously on his legs, the exhaustion catching up on his weak body. He fell down when he withdrew from you, hatred and offense plastered on his features when he took one last look at you.

“Tony!” Steve rushed to his side.

“I'm fine. I…” Tony’s words were cut short when he lost consciousness, his limp body falling into a heap on the floor.

Steve and Rhodey helped Tony to a bed in the medical bay, Steve could have carried him alone easily, it wasn’t that difficult after Tony was nothing more than half of his initial weight. Three weeks spent in space with barely any food rations would do that for anyone. He looked fragile and pale as you opened the transparent door to his room. 

Bruce looked up to you from the monitor near Tony’s bed. He had given Tony a good amount of sedative to keep him under. He needed the rest but sedation was the only solution to Tony’s stubbornness. 

“Hey,” 

Bruce watched you approach with a forced smile, he fidgeted when you planted yourself next to Tony’s sleeping body. You grimaced, guilt gnawing at your insides.

“Is he okay?” You continued and Bruce picked up Tony’s charts.

“A little on the underweight side and he lost a lot of body fat and muscles. I see nothing alarming physically. But other than that…” The implication of Tony’s mental health was clear. “I’m not a physician but he just needs to eat well, rest and get some sunshine and he’ll be good as new.”

You nodded, “Thank you, Bruce.”

The door opened again and Rhodey’s head peeked inside the room. He gritted his teeth when he saw you standing so close to Tony but didn’t mention it.

“We’re about to take off. Get ready, I’ll call Pepper to see if she can come over to watch after Tony.”

“I can do it.” You blurted out. “No need to call Pepper and make her drive at this hour.”

“I’m not sure if this is a good idea,” Rhodey’s face hardened and you insisted.

“It’s partially my fault if he’s in this bed. I want to make amends.” 

Bruce and Rhodey shared a look and Rhodey reluctantly nodded his head. 

“Fine. But I don’t want to come back and find out the two of you tried to kill each other when he woke up.”

“Is that an order, Colonel?” 

“I’m not joking, Y/N. At least be cordial. We don’t have time for this right now.”

“I know, why do you think I volunteered in the first place? To babysit him while I gloat? I have a solid reason as any of you to come hunt Thanos’ ass, trust me, I would come in a heartbeat but Tony’s very much alive and I’ll try to salvage the rest of the friendship we have left.”

Rhodey studied you for a minute and his shoulders relaxed slightly. His face seemed to have softened but it was always hard to tell with Rhodey. 

Bruce excused himself and Rhodey followed, soon leaving you entirely alone except for Tony being still inert. 

Before leaving, Steve found you sitting on a chair, absentmindedly looking at Tony with a frown. He called your name a couple of times before he caught your attention. 

“Are you here to warn me or give me a lecture too?” You said a bit on the harsh side, Steve looked taken aback and leaned against the doorway.

“I assume you got an earful already.” He shook his head.

“What are you going to do, now that you got him back?” You asked, glancing at Tony once again.

“I don’t know. Apologising would be a good start.”

“Something tells me he’s gonna put up a fight before accepting them.”

“Then I’ll fight back until he hears me out.” Steve scratched his beard and straightened. “See you later.”

“Steve?” He turned on his heels, “Be careful.”

Steve gave you a smile and you sank deeper in the chair with a sigh.

You hoped for the best, hoped that the weeks spent looking for a solution weren’t in vain. Their plan had to work, otherwise, you didn’t know what you would do.

A couple of hours later found you in a state of panic when Tony stirred back to life. Bruce had given you a list of instructions if Tony came to regain consciousness but the minute Tony opened his eyes, everything went downhill from here.

He immediately tried to sit down and rip the IV from his arm so you jumped into action and smacked his hand away. He mumbled something under his breath and by the sound of it, you were certain it wasn’t something nice.

“Tony, stop! Lay back down, goddammit!”

“Get out,” Tony wheezed then coughed loudly. 

You grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him back on the mattress. “Just listen to me for once!”

“Get off! Don’t touch me!” Tony tried to wrestle you but he quickly tired himself out after a minute. You easily got the upper hand and gently pushed him on his back. You checked the needle on his arm and secured it with another piece of medicale tape, just in case. The stark contrast of his apparent veins on his pale, thin arm was disturbing to say the least.

“Tony, please, you need help--”

“Not from you. I want you far away from me, actually.”

You would be lying if you said the words didn’t sting. You pushed away the feeling and stood your ground. 

“Nobody is here, it’s just you and me. They’re gone, I don’t know when they’ll be back, so you don’t have any other choice.”

“I see. You’re so close to finishing the job, Y/N. I couldn’t do anything in this state. Great thinking, excellent execution, perfect timing. Ten out of ten.” The hurt in his voice was palpable and you had no idea how to make him understand that wasn’t what you wanted but he made it impossibly difficult to have a normal conversation with. To put aside your differences and talk like adults.

“We’re stuck together for the time being so just shut your mouth and listen to me, Tony. If you ever considered us friends, you’ll grant me this right.”

Tony let out a loud, humourless chuckle. “You don’t get to say that to me. You have no right, not after-- Not after _this_.” Tony rubbed his chest again, the pain still raw, triggering this knee-jerk reaction every time he looked at you. “You lost my trust indefinitely. I don’t want to listen to your excuses. I don’t think I could ever forgive you.”

You were right, Tony was putting up a fight. It was nasty and you fully accepted every painful word he threw at you without complaints. You deserved every single one.

“If you need anything, let me know. Just don’t get out of this bed otherwise Rhodey and Steve will kill me.” You stood up and Tony fixed his gaze somewhere else, anywhere but at you. You stopped when you reached the door, your fingers curled around the handle. “I know it won’t make any difference but I’m sorry for threatening you with the knife. It wasn’t my intention, my emotions got the better of me.”

You were met with silence, Tony stubbornly ignoring you and you walked out without another word.

Sitting on the sofa facing the med bay, you watched Tony succumbing to sleep again soon after. You let out a relieved sigh and allowed yourself some rest. You laid down, putting your head on the armrest. Your body gradually relaxed until you dozed off, lulled by the muffled echo of Tony’s beeping heart monitor in the next room.

Early morning rolled around, announcing the return of the team. The sound of footsteps down the hallway woke you up from a light sleep. You immediately checked on Tony and to your satisfaction, he was still out cold. You yawned and discarded yourself from the sofa groggily, hastily jumping on your feet in search of good news.

Rhodey slammed the door open, startling you. He made a beeline to Tony’s room immediately, not sparing a glance in your direction. More filled the room, Natasha’s brows were creased and she looked upset, her eyes cast down. Bruce’s face was blank and Steve was the last one to enter. There was reluctance and trepidation in his steps, his eyes found yours he gave you a small shake of his head.

“They’re gone.” Steve had blood splattered on his shoulder and he dropped his helmet unceremoniously on the floor with a loud clang. “The stones. The team. Thanos. They’re all gone.”

Your stomach lurched and you shuddered violently. Hugging yourself for comfort, tears swelled in your eyes and your knees almost gave out. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

Once the tears finally came, you couldn’t stop them.

The world was crumbling around you and you shook your head over and over again, refusing to believe it would end like this. The pain was excruciating, crushing your insides effortlessly. The blind optimism dissipated in a cloud of smoke and let place to the grim reality you had denied the existence of for long weeks. Bucky’s face flashed at the forefront of your mind and you felt nauseous. 

Steve pulled you in his arms, hugging you against his chest tightly to ease your sobs but mostly to prevent you from collapsing. 

* * *

Your eyes were swollen and you had to fight them open, probably having passed out and cried yourself to sleep with no recollection of how you got into your bed in the first place. The curtains were drawn, that gave you a clue that somebody indeed put you to bed. 

Stretching, your limbs protested at the sudden movement. There was an undetected ache in your lower abdomen and an odd wetness between your legs. You groaned, cursing Mother Nature for dropping your monthly gift early. You awkwardly climbed out of bed, avoiding spreading blood on your sheets everywhere. The timing couldn’t have been worse. 

The bathroom felt miles away as you stepped blindly in its direction, still disoriented from sleep. The cramps grew stronger and more intense after each step, your knees buckled and you had to grab the edge of your bed for balance, taking a deep breath before resuming your route to the bathroom.

You held your stomach with your free hand, trying to reduce the pain but to no avail, you let it fall to your side soon after when it seemed to only increase the pain. Grunting, you forced yourself onward. The dampness between your thighs was warm and sticky, a fresh wave of blood coated your skin.

“Fuck. _Shit_.” You muttered. 

Cleaning the bed and yourself was going to be a nightmare. You still needed to reach the shower first and this was a mission of its own as your body categorically refused to cooperate. 

You never had cramps that severe before which made you deduce something was irrevocably off. You wondered if Bruce also had given you a sedative to calm yourself down earlier and your period pain combined with the reaction of the drug created a bad reaction, not mixing well together.

At this point, you now felt the blood trickling down your legs with each slow, agonizing step. You blinked back tears, nausea swirled in your empty stomach and you could taste bile on the back of your throat. Your legs couldn’t support you, your whole body spasmed as sharp pain made you hunch over and drop on your knees. You panted, sweat smeared on your forehead as you brushed your hair out of the way with the back of your hand.

You thought about death. Is this how you would meet your end? You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t even keep your eyes open anymore. 

“F-FRIDAY,” You gathered the last of your strength to call out the only name that soothed your panicked mind, the only person you were certain had his trust lately. “Steve… S-Steve. FRI--” 

Bending forward until your forehead made contact with the cool floor of your bedroom, you vaguely registered the synthetic, feminine voice of the AI answering somewhere above you. The sound only underwater noises to you, the shape of the words distorted and distant. 

You rolled to your side, bringing your knees to your chest and placing yourself in a foetal position.

You waited. 

Minutes, hours, days. Everything felt suffocating as your mind played over and over again the worst case scenarios behind your eyelids. You let out a moan, then another, then the next wave of pain was so terrible it shook you to your core, the scream perched under your chin waiting to be released but the air in your lungs was nowhere to be found, the supply had run short. 

The door flew open somewhere behind you and the vibrations of it slamming against the wall had you gasp in relief.

In the darkness of the room, Steve didn’t immediately spot you on the floor. The smell, on the other hand, made him flinch. Your room reeked of blood and of cold sweat. He heard you shift near his feet and yelled at FRIDAY to turn on the lights. The AI did exactly as she was told and the horror of the scene displayed in front of Steve’s eyes had his body frozen.

He dropped to his knees and frantically said your name. When you didn’t respond, his mind raced, thinking of taking action quickly. He eyed the bloody rags that were once supposed to be your covers and could retrace your journey to what he assumed was going to be the bathroom by the blood-path staining the floor. 

Steve gently grabbed your arm and moved you to lay on your back. You seemed unaware of his presence by the look on your face. Your eyes were glassy and unfocussed, you were battling consciousness and you gradually started to lose said battle after each passing second. He had to act fast.

“Hey, hey! Stay with me!” Steve cupped the side of your face, “You gotta stay awake. You’re losing too much blood-- FRIDAY!?”

_“Yes, Captain Rogers?”_ The AI responded smoothly.

“Have Bruce come to the med bay immediately. Tell him Y/N is bleeding out and needs care _urgently_.” Steve wrapped an arm beneath your knees and the other around your shoulders, not minding your blood covering his shirt when he picked you up.

You blacked out the moment Steve stepped out of your bedroom.

The room was spinning. Everything was too loud or too bright. You recognised the room you were in but not the reason why. Fog clouded your mind, blurred memories of what had happened came in bits and pieces, except you weren’t sure if they were figments of a nightmare or the reality. 

Your first impression upon waking was how weak you felt. You barely had the energy to open your eyes, and the corners of your vision were dark, threatening to be plunged into unconsciousness again. 

Something moved to your right and you found yourself staring right back into Tony’s eyes.

“Hey.”

Were the drugs they administered you hallucinogenic or your drowsiness played tricks on your mind?

“Tony…?” 

“You’re okay. Don’t move. You lost a lot of blood.” 

“What happened?” You croaked out, your throat was dry and when Tony handed you an open bottle of water, he helped you to hold it while you drank. Which you did too fast, resulting in you coughing, sending pricking needles in your lower abdomen.

“What do you remember?” Tony played it safe, he wanted to know first how much exactly you knew before going into details.

“I don’t remember much. It’s… Fuzzy in my brain.” You absently rubbed your hand on your stomach. Tony followed your movement and averted his eyes, suddenly finding the needle in his arm fascinating. “I just remember the blood,” You continued quietly. “There was so much of it.”

“That’s an understatement. Your room wasn’t pretty to look at, we basically had to throw out a good chunk of it.”

You sighed deeply, trying to remember made your head ache. You closed your eyes, deciding to save some of your strength. “I’m sorry, Tony.”

Tony huffed. “Don’t worry about it. It was just a bed.”

“No, not about this.”

“Let’s not talk about this now, you almost died last night.”

“I did feel like I was dying. First, I got my heart ripped out then I bled out.” You said flatly. “Seems fitting.” 

“You should rest, Y/N.”

“What are you doing here, Tony?” You opened your eyes, searching for an answer. “You’re the last person I expected in this room after everything that had transpired between the two of us for the last three days, hell, the last three years!”

Tony looked torn and for the first time since you met him all those years ago, he didn’t know what to say for himself.

“I’m reconsidering a lot of things in my life lately. Space really changes you, you know?” Tony let out a scoff and smacked his lips together. “If you were asking me this a week ago when I was at my lowest, I would have told you you were but a stranger to me. I honestly didn’t want to be associated with you in any way, stopped thinking about you, erased you from my memory.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and watched Tony struggle for the right words.

“Haven’t seen you in years. And when our paths crossed again, the first time, you shot me. Second time, you pulled a knife on me. I think I got the message after that. There’s better friendships in the world, less destructive… We had that, once.” 

“What have you decided now? Am I a stranger or a friend?” 

“I don’t know. What do you want to be?”

You considered his question, mulling it over in your head for a moment. “I lost too much already."

Tony’s entire composure tensed, his eyes avoided yours once again. “You should rest. We should have this conversation another time. I shouldn’t even be here in the first place." 

“But we’re already having it, Tony.”

"They’re going to send a search party for my ass if they don’t find me in bed.” Tony retorted and as if on cue, the door opened to reveal a very flustered and disheveled Steve. He was followed by Natasha close behind and she immediately crossed her arms when she noticed Tony sitting there. 

“Not a search party, the whole cavalry.” He corrected.

“Did you find him?” Came Rhodey’s voice somewhere in the hallway. 

“He’s here.” Steve answered, not taking his eyes off either of you.

Steve didn’t look angry, if anything, he seemed relieved yet something in his demeanor pulled you off. 

“Tony, I swear to God,” Rhodey rolled his eyes. 

“I’m beginning to understand how you felt in the hospital.” Tony grunted and stood up. “Alright, stop the coddling, I’m going.”

Why was everybody acting so strangely around you since the moment you woke up in the med bay? Natasha left you some spare clothes on the nearby nightstand before throwing you a quick smile and leaving the room herself. Steve and her exchanged one last look on her way out.

Loosely grabbing Tony’s wrist before he fled the room, you curled your lips in an attempt of a smile, tugging Tony a little closer to you. He let his weight shift and clasped his hand in yours when the motion of holding his was too difficult for you to sustain. 

“I want to be your friend, Tony.” You whispered quickly, pouring all your affection in the genuine words. Hoping he would see you meant every word. "Like we were once."

Tony squeezed your hand warmly. “Take it easy, I’ll be there when you’re ready.”

Rhodey mumbled a 'listen to your own advice, Tones’ before the door slid shut behind them, the rest of the conversation muffled by glass walls.

The deafening silence fell in the room once again and Steve numbly stood there, bloodshot eyes and dark circles under his eyes, a flagrant distinction on his pale, exhausted face. He sighed wearily and placed his hands on his hips, resignation set tight in his jaw and shoulders.

“Are you okay?” You croaked out, the painkillers were wearing off and your dazed mind made your eyes droop a little, sleep would be welcome right now if it wasn’t for Steve acting as if he had the world’s responsibility on his shoulders.

Maybe he thought he did, after--

After.

Oh.

This is when it all came back to you. 

The trip to space, killing Thanos, the stones gone, half the population gone, your friends gone, Bucky gone.

_Bucky_.

The heavy lump lodged itself back in your throat and you licked your dry lips, tasting ashes. The coppery smell of blood floated in the air but you didn’t know if it was an imaginary smell from Wakanda’s battlefield or a very real one after remembering the bloodshed that happened in your room last night. You swallowed thickly, pushing back the acidic bile that threatened to rise once again. 

“--with me, Y/N? Take a deep breath.” Steve’s voice emerged from the background and you focused your attention to him.

“Steve?”

“Hey.” Steve gave you a tentative smile. “It’s okay. Lost you for a moment, there.”

“Got lost in thoughts. I think I finally realized.”

“Realized what?” Steve asked gently.

“That my life will never be the same.” You tried to reciprocate a smile of your own but it ended up more in a grimace. 

Steve’s eyes dropped to the floor quickly before he rubbed the back of his neck, gathering himself and finding the courage to have the conversation he dreaded to have with you. Not in a million years Steve Rogers thought about the possibility of having to say those words to you but here he was, and here you were, and the odds were really against both of your favors. 

He had spent the rest of the night and the entire morning rehearsing what he was going to say to you, finding the words that could hurt the least, that could be a ripped band-aid instead of a dagger in your heart but his mind blanked. 

Ignoring the hand that rested atop your belly like his life was on the balance, he sat on the bed. You felt the mattress sink and your stomach with it. It hurt him too, to have to be the one constantly being the bearer of bad news to you. 

_“Are you here as my friend or as my executioner?_ ” Bucky had once said to him, another lifetime ago now. Steve had too many lifetimes in his life and he was _sick_ of it. 

Today he felt like both whereas last time he was offended at those words. 

_Oh Buck_ , he thought, _I’m so sorry. I will take care of her for you, I promise._

“Do you remember anything?” Steve said, echoing Tony’s previous question.

“Bits here and there.” You replied, the hand placed on your abdomen curled into a fist. “Mainly the pain and the--” You stopped yourself, the smell was so vivid and strong, you fought not to retch right here on the floor. 

“The blood.” Steve nodded and you mirrored his gesture in response. 

You shut your eyes tightly, a headache was forming in the back of your skull and you pushed away the flashbacks, the scent, the phantom pain, and covered them all by the image of Bucky’s smile. A big and calloused hand closed atop your tight fist and you cracked your eyes open again, half expecting to find Bucky sitting there instead of Steve. He tried to untangle your fingers softly and held them in his hand, not squeezing, not pinching, just cupping your palm in his own. 

It was his left hand. It felt all kinds of wrong, you were used to cold metal. Not warm and pumping with blood.

“What’s wrong with me, Steve? Am I sick?” You exhaled, the words heavy on your tongue.

“No, no. You aren’t.” Steve sniffed, the sound too familiar to your ears now. “You had a miscarriage. Y/N. You were pregnant. Ten weeks, give or take, Bruce said. And you lost it. I’m sorry.” A tear spilled on Steve’s cheek and ended its course on his shirt miserably. 

The words hit you like a sack of bricks.

Not only you had lost Bucky but you also lost the last possible thing that could have linked you to him. 

Steve was clutching your hand tightly now and waited. Patient. Understanding. 

You wanted to punch him. 

You wanted to cry, to scream, to claw at your body for the betrayal and to inject yourself with a dose of morphine so high you wouldn’t feel a damn thing anymore. Perhaps not waking up for a few days, even. Or ever. Waking up everyday, being reminded of the pain and the suffering, the good things in your life gone and not being able to do a single thing about it was the farthest thing you wished to live for the rest of your life. 

Your free hand reached for the button on your IV and pressed it again and again and again. The morphine once released and flowing through your veins, you started to punch the button until the dose was half empty and the device squeaked with the adrenaline and rage you inflicted upon it. 

“Don’t, Y/N! Please-- Hey, look at me! Stop! Don’t do this, Y/N-- FRIDAY, cut the morphine supply and call for Natasha!” Steve gripped both your arms in a painful hold but you wrestled him for as long as your weak and recovering body would permit. 

You successfully slipped one hand free from Steve and extended it in the direction of the very appealing button again. Steve had to pin you down against the mattress to stop you from falling off the bed and keep you from harming yourself. The machines beeped frantically beside the bed and you couldn’t hear the exchange FRIDAY and Steve were having, muffled by a much louder and gut-wrenching sound.

The sound was coming from you. 

You were screaming.

How does one stop screaming?

Your vision blurred by the amount of tears you couldn’t bring yourself to shed. You glanced down at the sensation of cool, foreign fingers on your left arm painfully manoeuvring you to still you, to calm down but your body shook violently and a new wave of adrenaline overtook you. 

Silver faintly came into view when, finally, you blinked and set the tears free. Natasha struggled to restrain you but you resisted, jerking and twisting in Steve and Natasha’s grasp.

You felt a third pair of hands on you, not having noticed Bruce had entered the room and a sharp, momentaneous feeling of a needle breaking your skin and everything around you went dark.

* * *

The first thing you felt upon waking was your sore throat and limp body.

You were conscious but your body was still asleep, you couldn’t move, couldn’t even lift your eyes open. You concentrated on the beeping next to you, now at a slow and almost peaceful rythme compared to the loud and alarming noises it made before.

How long was before?

Taking a deep breath, or trying to, as the cannula in your nose made it infinitely more difficult to do so, you focused on your body and catalogued the different parts of it that hurt; as stated before, your throat was what ached the most. Then, the back of your hand where the needle of your IV got ripped out in your episode and had to be reinserted again. You felt dried blood itching your skin there, around the tape that secured the needle. Both your arms weren’t better off as well, you could swore you would be able to see bruises in different places if only you'd be able to open your _eyes_ …

Faint but clear voices echoed in the now too small room. You listened, motionless.

“--is a sign of depression, we have to help her--”

“--feel like I failed him--”

“--Bucky and now their baby, can’t say I blame her--”

“--she’s strong, she’ll recover--”

“--never seen her acting like this--”

“--tried to overdose, I can’t believe it--”

“--what should we do, it’s breaking me to have to restrain her--”

Restrain?

Your whole body twitched and you were alert in an instant. Panic settled as you tried to move your arms but as confirmed, your wrists were bound and cuffed to the bed. You hadn’t even been aware of it in the first place, the fabric smooth but firm enough to not break. You pulled at them harshly, startling everybody around you.

There were too many people, too many eyes on you and the room felt like closing in on you. It was suffocating, breaching medical and personal privacy alike. You couldn’t breathe, the irregular intakes of breaths not enough to fill your constricted lungs.

“Take a deep breath for me, Y/N.” A voice to your left erupted. They placed a hand on your forehead and pushed back the sweat and hair from your skin, the gesture as a means to ground and soothe you. “That’s it. You’re doing good, take another one for me.”

You stopped squirming under the person’s hand and you ceased all movements, the cuffs digging painfully in your skin around your wrists. 

“Please,” You pleaded, “ _Please_.” You coughed, you could barely talk. Your throat was so dry it felt like swallowing sandpaper. “Please, please.” You repeated over and over again, choking on your own sobs and empty nausea.

“Here,” Somebody’s hand slid under your head and held it upright as a glass of water was pressed against your lips. “You will feel better.” 

The water was cold and refreshing, and it was like finding an oasis in the desert. You gulped down the liquid greedily and not a second later, another glass was presented to you.

“Easy, we don’t want you to choke.” 

Your eyes fluttered open then, finally gathering enough strength to take control of your own body again and you took in your surroundings slowly. Steve was still seated on the bed on your right, empty glass of water in his hand. Natasha was positioned on your left, also sitting at the edge of your bed. On a chair, at the foot of the bed, Tony was facing you, and beside him was standing Bruce. 

They all looked different shades of exhausted and worried. Natasha had been biting her nails, you saw her fiddling with the battered and slightly bloody skin around her cuticles, only visible sign of her anxiety toward your well-being. Tony’s knee bounced rapidly and his glasses were perched high on his nose, not looking better as he shielded himself as much as he could. Bruce was pacing back and forth in the room, unnerving you even more. You finished your tour of the room with Steve, you readied yourself and apprehended the sight of him. Your heart raced, pushing the moment as far as you could and when you turned your head in his direction, guilt gnawed at you from the inside out. 

He was a wreck. His medium-long hair unkept and unwashed, the beard too long and almost hiding his upper lip in an untidy manner, his eyes were red and the white almost non-existent as numerous tiny veins had popped around the intact blue. Steve had taken the worst toll of them all and you wanted to apologise and hug him, to tell him you were okay and that they would be okay but it was a _lie_. You couldn’t lie to him, he didn’t deserve the treatment you were giving him. He was trying to help and you threw it all through the window, ruining it. 

But Steve still smiled at you.

He cared about you so deeply you wanted to slap yourself. 

“You’re spiraling again.” You heard the thud of the glass on the nightstand as Steve put it down, “I need you to breathe. Please, Y/N, breathe.”

You heard Bruce saying something about meds and prescription but you shook your head, trying to break free from the restraints once again.

“Please.” You reiterated. 

“We can’t take these off until we’re sure you’re not a danger to yourself, Y/N.” Natasha intervened. Her fingers resumed their motions in your hair and you found yourself flinching under her touch, the words stinging hard.

She dropped her hand in her lap and looked at Steve.

“Do you understand what we’re saying?” Steve asked barely above a whisper, his voice hoarse and low. “It’s for your own good. I promise.”

“We’re trying to help you. You tried to ki--”

“Not now, Bruce.” Tony cut in.

“Out,” You cleared your throat but winced at the pain, making it difficult for you to speak. 

“Y/N, please.” Steve said, imploring you to listen to him.

“ _Out_.”

Tony was the first one to move. He pushed his IV, leaning against it as he stood up and stopped in his tracks when nobody followed after him.

“Didn’t you hear her? Let’s give her some space. She needs room to breathe, dammit. I will have FRIDAY monitor and check on her if she needs something. Everybody out.” He slid the door open and waited for the others to take their leave. 

Bruce didn’t need to be told twice and quickly exited, followed by Natasha, which had her brows furrowed in resignation.

“Come on, pal. She needs a moment to herself.” Tony urged and the gentle tone of his voice almost made you tear up again.

Finally, Steve rose from the bed but didn’t budge for a few seconds. He said your name but you ignored his plea, stubbornly watching the rain splattered window, tightly curling your fingers into fists again and Steve understood the cue.

You heard a sigh and footsteps receding. A minute later, the door was shut and you were alone. 

Truly, definitely and entirely _alone_. 

Motherhood was certainly not in your plans, it wasn’t something Bucky and you had discussed, life as Avengers-then-fugitives clearly wasn’t ideal and you had no idea if either of you could even conceive in the first place. You did think that, maybe, Bucky’s body being in and out of cryo for nearly seventy years would have created internal damages but the idea was too gruesome to give it much thought. 

On the other hand, and now that you had plenty of time to ponder and wonder about it, the frozen effect would have had the exact opposite of your initial idea. The perfect condition in which Bucky had stayed in-between missions, ice freezing him in time, was what made him able to stay viable to this day. 

The second hypothesis was more believable because, after all, you had proof now. 

The cuff clinked against the metal frame of the bed as you absentmindedly tried to reach for your stomach, preventing you to touch where your unborn child had been nestled without your knowledge. Bruce had said ten weeks. Two and a half months ( _give or take_ , Steve’s voice echoed in your mind) without even knowing about it, completely unaware that you were pregnant of Bucky’s child.

They say a death often brings a birth, but apparently the Reaper hadn’t been given the memo.

Would the birth of a baby would have made you feel less empty with the loss of Bucky? Would you have even been able to love the child, watching them grow and starting to notice the similarities and features shared with their father over the years? Or would you have resented them the moment they would start asking questions about Bucky’s absence?

Your palms were sticky with blood where your nails dug deeply into the skin of your hands, you punched the mattress once, twice, the grief too heavy in your heart for your weak body. Cursing the entire world for the burden, the sorrow and the hopelessness. You felt the pillow wet under your cheek where your face was resting, so you laid there, crying yourself to sleep to a place you didn’t need to feel or think. 

* * *

_The festivities were now building to a crescendo, the music piercing and bouncing in-between your temples. You had the aftertaste of whisky in your mouth and a thin sheen of sweat covered your face as you had danced like your life depended on it mere minutes ago. Tony’s parties were legendary known among America's elite and even after having spent most of his life in California, Tony didn’t struggle to find people in New York to invite to his soirées._

_You motioned to Natasha you were about to take a breather but she had remained there, carrying her unspilled glass of her beverage while she continued to swing in tandem with the rhythm. You swayed slightly on your feet, reaching for the bar blindly in the sea of people, the alcohol flowed swiftly from person to person, Thor had brought his Asgardian mead and you didn’t dare to take a sip when he proposed some to you. You had watched an older gentleman get his feet knocked off the ground the moment he had tasted the concoction and so it had put you off instantly. Steve remained unbothered when he swallowed the liquid but, hey, Steve was only partially human as he shrugged, unimpressed after passing the glass to Sam._

_Witnessing Sam having to sit down after tasting the mead probably was the highlight of the evening, you weren’t drunk enough to not notice Sam’s knees going all wobbly for a moment. You had teased him many times after that fretful day while Steve always raised his hands in mock surrender making a ‘I told you so’ face._

_“You’re ganging up on me. You, Steve and Barnes, you’re always ganging up on me.” Sam cried out, shaking his head minutely to clear his thoughts._

_“Hey, that’s your problem, Sam. Does an ex-pararescue needs rescuing now?” You joked and Sam pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance._

_“Where’s he anyway?”_

_“Bucky? He’s in his room.” Steve chimed in, “Where do you think he’d be, Sam? Here?” He snorted._

_“Yeah, yeah. My bad. Just got--”_

_“Wasted? Didn’t notice.” You hid your smirk behind the rim of your glass._

_Sam glared at you and he looked at least three shades paler._

_“You’re terrible and I hate you.”_

_“I’m terribly still able to drink, you mean? Absolutely.”_

_“Steve, man, why is her voice so loud?”_

_“Alright, enough,” Steve laughed and squeezed both of your shoulders._

_You casually leaned against the chair Sam was sitting on and bent forward, talking loud enough for the word to reach his ears above the music. “...Lightweight.”_

_Sam groaned and dropped his forehead against the cool surface of the table, looking as well as feeling miserable. “Asgardians, can never trust ‘em.”_

_You left Sam to his desperate and outraged mumbling, having a one way conversation with the table and turned to Steve who was finishing his third beer of the night._

_“Should somebody check on Bucky?” You asked._

_“That’d be great, yeah.” He said just as Sam’s loud grunt resonated beside the two of you. “Although I’m not sure if leaving Sam alone would be smart right now.”_

_“I could go, I don’t mind.” You offered and his eyes widened._

_“You sure? I don’t want you to feel obligated.”_

_“He’s my friend, too. And as I said, I don’t mind. I need to step out for a moment, my ears are ringing, Tony’s really not kidding with blasting music until you turn deaf.”_

_Steve nodded his thanks and you pated Sam’s shoulder in sympathy before you took off, grabbing a light jacket on your way out. You made a detour to the bar and selected two beers from the overflowing mini-fridge with you and walked in the direction of the elevator._

_You breathed deeply while waiting for the elevator, the music still pulsating in your body and the alcohol slouching dangerously in your stomach with each step you took. The doors pinged and slid open then closed after you, blocking off the music abruptly._

_“Which floor, Miss Y/L/N?” The smooth voice of the invisible AI asked._

_Oh, right._

_You stood there awkwardly for a moment, frowning. “Um, whichever floor Bucky is.”_

_“Sergeant Barnes is living on the twenty-ninth floor. Would you like to come up?”_

_“Yes. Please.” And after a beat, “Is he occupied at the moment?” You asked and after several silent seconds, JARVIS spoke up._

_“Sergeant Barnes appears to be reading on his bed at the moment, shall I inform him of your incoming presence?”_

_“No, I’d--”_ like it to be a surprise _, you thought. “No, it’s okay. Thanks, J.”_

_There were only two doors on this floor but only one with light visible under a locked door. You straightened your posture and quickly knocked a couple of times, waiting for an answer._

_A short moment later, Bucky’s figure emerged from his bedroom, a confused look on his face._

_“Hi. Delivery!” You raised and shook the two beers in your hand to him. “May I come in?”_

_Bucky glanced back in his room and you could see the tense lines of his shoulders from here but after a short moment, he distinctively relaxed and nodded, opening his door wider to let you in._

_His room was, for lack of a better word, dull._

_Everything felt cold and impersonal. There was no decoration and personal objects. The only belongings he had were either neatly stacked, folded or put away. Military habits die hard. You’ve seen Steve’s room a few times before, he had three times the amount of things Bucky owned but each item had their precise place for it. The only indication giving away Bucky lived there were the ruffled covers and propped up pillows on his bed, even the book on his nightstand had been bookmarked carefully and symmetrically placed next to the little lamp, which was the only dim source of light in the room._

_“Enjoying the party?” He told you, sitting on the foot of the bed and looking at you._

_“Hm?” You tore your eyes away from the row of books atop his dresser and focused back on him. “Oh, yes, yes. It’s going great. Sam’s a lightweight, if he tells you otherwise next time you see him, just so you know, he’s a liar.”_

_A quick flash of a smile stretched on Bucky’s lips and you approached him, nodding at the space next to him._

_“Can I sit?”_

_“Can I have this beer?”_

_You grinned and sat down, offering him the beer. A more genuine smile now appeared on Bucky’s face and you two shared a companionable silence before slapping your own hand on your forehead._

_“Shit. I forgot to bring a bottle opener.”_

_“S’okay, don’t need one.” Bucky outstretched his left hand toward your beer and snapped the cap off the bottle in one effortless motion then again on his own._

_“Thanks, you just saved the evening.”_

_Bucky shrugged and changed the topic. “It’s nearly two in the morning, that’s not really evening anymore.”_

_“Did you know you’re a real smartass sometimes?” You sipped your beer then spluttered, “Wait, it’s already two?_

_Bucky nodded solemnly and you let out an incredulous ‘damn’._

_“Can’t sleep?” You asked, the alcohol loosening your tongue._

_“Music’s too loud.”_

_“The mu--?” You shut your mouth and concentrated as much as you could, straining your ears for a noise but none reached them. “I can’t hear anything.”_

_Either it was absolutely silent in the room and Bucky was fucking with you or your ears were ringing too much to hear any actual sound coming from the party._

_“You won’t be able to hear something, the only person who could would be Steve.”_

_Realization colored your face and you closed your eyes in shame. “Oh._ Oh _. Right. I forgot.”_

_Bucky’s shoulders shook slightly with quiet laughter and you looked up, watching him drink his beer, jumping on the occasion to study his profile while he was busy drinking and looking away._

_He looked healthier, a stubble covered his once pale skin, his face still sported this absent and haunted expression but his recovery only started less than a year ago. You were already glad to see him going out of his shell._

_His eyes drifted to yours with a brow raised and a question on the tip of his lips._

_“I don’t think you will want to stay here long when the fun is happening downstairs.”_

_“Fun is great in different and paced doses. And who said I wasn’t having fun right now?” You retorted._

_“I’m not a good entertainer I’m afraid.” Bucky swirled the liquid in his bottle and avoided your gaze._

_“Hey, cheer up, Sarge.” You bumped your shoulder with his and for a moment, you forgot about the metal hidden under his shirt colliding with your much softer arm. “You don’t need to entertain anybody. I just wanted to check on you and see how you were doing, is all.You’re my friend and I care about you.” You gave him a sincere smile and Bucky glanced at you like he was trying to solve a puzzle._

_Bucky stayed silent and finished his beer, dropping it on the floor with a muted thud. Without thinking, you pushed your half-full bottle in his hand and said, “Here, take mine.”_

_You didn’t let him protest and Bucky grabbed it delicately in his metal hand, undoubtedly trying not to crush it with his strength._

_“Is it always so hot in here?” You gripped the lapel of your thin jacket and waved it back and forth to your body to let in some air. “Do you mind if I…?”_

_Bucky shrugged, again. “Sure.” He averted his eyes the moment you started to undress and suddenly found the bottle he was holding the most fascinating thing in the world._

_Discarding yourself from your piece of clothing, you heaved a sigh of relief when you could finally breathe better. Drinking and dancing turned your skin on fire and the beer now felt and tasted room-temperature from cradling it too long in your burning hands. Bucky didn’t seem to mind and his eyes were settled on something only he could see._

_“Don’t like the cold.” His mind was miles away as he spoke, his voice sounding distant and detached._

_“If you dance with me one day, I bet you you won’t feel cold.” You cringed at your own words and raised a finger, “Wait, that came out wrong--”_

_That seemed to do the trick, Bucky’s face shifted from troubled to amused. A smirk slowly creeped up on his lips and his fingers played with the neck of his beer._

_“You did good to give me that.” And to make his point, he also finished your beer and placed it next to the empty bottle at his feet._

_“Don’t be a Steve, Bucky. Nobody wants a second Steve around here.”_

_“What’s he doing down there?”_

_“Mother-henning a very drunk, very wasted Sam Wilson, is what he’s doing.”_

_“Sam should thank him, then.”_

_“I say 'thank you Thor for gift-wrapping me the sight of Sam nearly passed out on a chair in the middle of Tony’s party.”_

_“Now this is the only thing that is making me regret not attending.”_

_“There’s always a next time. Plus, I did bring a bit of the party to you.”_

_Bucky was about to respond when JARVIS interfered before he could open his mouth._

_“I apologize for interrupting but Agent Barton and Agent Romanoff are requesting your presence at the party immediately, Miss Y/L/N.”_

_“Did they say why?” You frowned at the ceiling._

_“They have expressed their desire to know who could consume the most liquor in a restricted period of time and don’t seem to settle on a fair judge. They made it clear that their wish would like it to be you and have urged me to, and I quote-unquote, ‘make her ass come down here ASAP’.”_

_You burst out laughing at this and tried stifling it as much as you could behind your hand. Bucky himself was smiling and you thought about making him come with you but didn’t want to make him uncomfortable._

_“Thank you, J. I’m coming in a minute.” Bucky’s face fell a little and your mouth was faster than your brain when you told him, “You’re welcome to assist me, if you want.”_

_“Thank you for asking but I’ll pass.”_

_“Okay. No pressure.” You stood up. “You can join us anytime. There shouldn’t be a lot of people left by now anyway.”_

_Bucky gave you a grateful nod and you bent down to retrieve the empty bottles._

_“Don’t bother, I will take care of that.” He said._

_“It’s nothing, I can handle it.” You reached for the door handle and before walking back to the party, you turned back to him. “See you tomorrow?”_

_“Yes,” He answered, “Good night, Y/N.”_

_You rushed out of the room, closing the door with a soft click behind you and smiled to yourself._

_An hour later, Clint and Natasha’s vodka shots fight had scared the guests enough to see them fleeing the place gradually. You watched them like dogs running with their tails between their legs and heard a few of them whispering scandalized words to each other as they passed you by._

_Natasha won, of course. It was a death wish to compete with a Russian._

_So you both had handled a comatose Clint on the couch and placed painkillers next to a tall glass of water for when the stupidity would dissipate and leave place to the aftermath: taking responsibility for accepting a bet with the Black Widow._

_The party came to an end after that, the only remaining survivors were Natasha, Tony, Rhodey, Maria, Thor, Bruce, Steve and, surprisingly, Sam, who was back on his feet and carrying water, glaring at you from afar the whole time._

_You mouthed ‘lightweight’ from behind the bar and laughed hard when he flipped you the bird, your laugh turning a few heads in your direction as it could be heard in the now much more quiet room._

_The atmosphere was relaxed and chill, everybody felt paradoxically lighter even after consuming their weight in alcohol and party snacks. Tony had pestered you for starting to clean the room but you explained it sobered you up to put yourself at work, the mechanical and effortless task helping clearing your mind._

_The amount of trash you had gathered was more satisfying, your body pleasantly sore afterward, than sitting down and having to hear yet another rambling of Rhodey’s Army stories back in the day._

_You were elbow deep in rinsing the second batch of wine glasses when Bucky chose the exact same moment to step into the room._

_“The party’s over, man.” Sam said to him._

_“Fine by me, didn’t come for that.” He replied and showed him your forgotten jacket he was carrying._

_“Y/N’s?” Steve asked and Bucky nodded._

_“She forgot it when she came earlier. Did you ask her to check on me?”_

_“It was all her idea.” Steve’s lips curled into a small smile._

_“Do you know where she is?”_

_“At the bar, spoiling all the fun with her adult maturity.” Sam said._

_“Go talk to her, Buck.” Steve nudged him gently with an elbow to his ribs._

_Bucky did a sweep of the room and spotted you putting away the glasses on their racks, then glanced at Sam, “Thanks, Lightweight.”_

_“Oh, come on!”_

_Bucky ignored him and made his way toward you, he watched you work for a minute before approaching you, sliding on a stool at the other side of the counter._

_“Hey.”_

_You jumped, clutching your chest in surprise. “Jesus, Bucky. I didn’t see you.”_

_“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” He raised his hands in apology but the glint in his eyes told another story._

_“What are you doing here? Thought you didn’t want to come.” You grabbed the dishcloth and dried your hands, giving him your attention._

_He placed your jacket atop the counter._

_“You left it in my room. Also wanted to say thank you for the beers, and the company.”_

_You bowed your head a little and accepted your returned jacket. “It was nothing, I’m glad you had a good time.”_

_“Next time, it’s on me.”_

_You chuckled, “I didn’t pay anything, Tony did. But, yeah, sure.” So there_ will be _a next time, after all. “Next time, you provide.”_

_You shared a smile and felt the heat on your cheeks rise under his stare._

_“You should smile more, it suits you.” You said._

_Well, the alcohol definitely got to your head._

_Wondering whether it was the perfect moment to hide under the counter without ridiculing yourself further, Bucky’s quiet chuckle caught you off guard enough to dirale your attempt at escaping._

_“Are you sure Sam’s the true lightweight here?” He teased and, yes, under the counter it is._

_“I’m sorry, I just--” You grunted, mentally slapping yourself. “Wasn’t thinking straight.”_

_“No harm done.”_

_“It’s always been my problem, you see? My filter is deactivated the moment I drink but I’m sober enough not to speak ridiculous truths.”_

_“What do you call that, then?” Bucky still eyed you with transparent amusement._

_Ouch. Touché._

_You feigned busying yourself with an already washed and dried glass, starting the process of cleaning it again just to avoid looking at him and shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly. “A fact?”_

_“A fact.” Bucky repeated flatly._

_“Look,” You put down the wet glass in the sink and planted your hands on the counter, leaning forward to be at Bucky’s eye-level. “I see what you’re trying to do here. Yes, you have a nice smile. No, you won’t make me talk unless you get drunk with me but fortunately for you and I, you can’t get drunk, so. Not happening.”_

_“I’ll trade you, if you want.”_

_“What?”_

_“One drunken fact for a sober truth, to make you feel better.”_

_You rolled on the ball of your feet and considered, “Okay. Go on.”_

_Bucky mulled it over in his head for a minute and seemed to settle on what he chose to say, “I don’t like the cold. I-- I just don’t.”_

_“So you said, yes.” You nodded patiently and waited, encouraging him to take his time._

_“That’s a story for another day but up there, earlier, I didn’t feel cold with you. I’m not feeling cold either as we speak. I feel… warm.”_

_“You do?”_

_“I’m warm when we spar at night. I’m warm when you’re sitting beside me at the VA. I find it difficult to feel cold when you’re here.”_

_“That’s, um.” You stuttered and you both sheepishly looked away, “Thank you? That’s very nice of you to say.” You risked a glance to Bucky but his hair falling around his face blocked his eyes from you._

_Bucky sprung on his feet suddenly. “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”_

_“No. God, no! It’s okay, I deserved that.” You chuckled awkwardly and you reached for his sleeve before dropping your hand to your side, not wanting to cause him discomfort by touching him. “Please, stay? We can say we’re even and laugh about it.”_

_Bucky’s eyes were on Steve at the other side of the room and you wondered if he was about to bolt for him but to your surprise, he sat back down on the stool instead. Laughter to your right erupted and you watched Maria sitting close to Clint’s sleeping body and place the sixth cracker on his face without even stirring. Bucky’s body was taut and his lips set in a thin, tight line._

_“Should we step out for a moment?” You put on the jacket around your shoulders and circled the bar to stand a feet away from him. “Your call.”_

_“It’s late, you should go to bed.”_

_The watch on your wrist indicated three forty-eight in the morning and you gaped at it like a fish. “I’m so going to regret this tomorrow.”_

_“Later, you mean.”_

_You scowled at him and the smile was back on his lips. The tension eased out from his shoulders and the distress on his face was nowhere in sight._

_“Alright, you win.”_

_“Wait,” Bucky disappeared behind the bar and fetched something, he came back with a bottled water and pushed it in your hand without preamble. “You’re gonna need this.”_

_You stared numbly at it and nodded. “Thanks.”_

_“Let me walk you back to your room?”_

_Taken aback, you looked up and spotted him already watching you, not having felt his gaze on you. “Okay.”_

_Waving at Steve and Sam but not bothering to make your departure known to the others, them being too engrossed in finding the best way to make Maria’s shoe rest on Clint’s shoulder, you walked at a relaxed pace toward the elevator. You stayed quiet all the way to your floor and not once you felt ill at ease, you hoped Bucky did, too._

_You stopped at your door and Bucky shoved his hands in his jeans._

_“Thank you for tonight,” You said. “I really appreciated it.”_

_“Me, too.”_

_“And for not letting ridicule myself,”_

_“My pleasure.”_

_"Good night, Bucky. For real this time.” You said lightly and unlocked your door. “Until next time.”_

_Bucky stayed unphased and he wished you a good night for the second time that night. You gave him one last, weary smile and you were gone, leaving him to stare at your door with longing desire until he was able to move again._

There, thinking back about that night three years later, tied to a hospital bed for your own safety, you felt cold.

* * *

“She needs medical help, Tony. Physically and psychologically.”

“I know that. Bruce can’t be her physician, obstetrician and psychiatrist all at once but the world is in shambles right now, where are we going to get that help?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what she needs. It’s driving me insane to see her like this.”

“I know what _you_ need, for starters. When was the last time you ate? Showered? Shaved? Jesus, look at that beard, it’s longer than the carpet in the lounge, Steve.”

Steve glanced in the general direction of the med bay and everytime he caught sight of you there, laying motionlessly and staring blankly at the wall, his heart sank a little deeper in his chest. You hadn’t moved in over twelve hours, didn’t consume anything sustainable to permit your body to heal correctly either. 

“Steve,” Tony snapped his fingers to get his attention. “Take a nap, do something, I can’t believe I’m the one having to say this to you.”

Steve and Tony stared at each other for a beat too long before Steve was the first to look away. 

"I missed you, Tony."

Tony shifted in his seat, "Not the most ideal reunion but we'll make do with what we're given."

"Are you okay?" 

"Are _you_?" Tony huffed sarcastically and Steve grimaced. 

"Yeah, I know. Stupid question."

There was another pause and Tony groaned, "What are you still doing here, aren't you tired of feeling mortal like the rest of us?" 

Steve's lips hinted at a smile, the first genuine one he had during the past week.

But Steve found himself hesitating before finally heading to his room, worry was still eating him alive and he wasn’t sure if he would be able to actually sleep or eat, but showering, that he could do. That required minimum effort; getting undressed, washing, rinsing and putting on clean clothes. That looked simple put that way but that was the hardest task he had to do in the last seventy-two hours. 

He cut himself twice while shaving, his hands shaking with exhaustion and stress, the serum allowed his body to be self-sufficient for days at the time but he was starting to run low on energy, rendering his movements slow and sloppy. He dragged himself to his bedroom, the sun was casting late-afternoon shadows on the furnitures and he thought for a second how abandoned it made his room look.

Sighing long and deep, Steve couldn't bring himself to rest. He eyed the bed as if it was foreign to him and placed his hands on his hips, and turned on his heels instead. 

His feet brought him to your room instinctively, the door was ajar and faint light highlighted the dark hallway as he approached. Steve pushed the door open and Natasha blinked back at him. 

"Hey, what are you doing here?" Steve leaned against the doorframe. 

"Same as you." She faked a casual shrug and Steve spotted the ball of white fur curling on her lap. She stroked Alpine's white coat absently, Alpine's purr growing louder with each brush of her hand. 

Steve surveyed your bedroom, taking in the lack of furniture and the large, empty space that came with it. 

"Mind if I join you?" 

Natasha didn't answer but it was permission enough for Steve, she would have made it clear if she had wanted to remain alone otherwise. 

Sitting down crossed legged next to Natasha on the floor, Steve brought his hand forward to Alpine, lazily sniffing him, recognising his scent and granting him the right to pet her. He scratched Alpine's chin with his long fingers, making the cat crane her neck in a position that simply demanded more of the delicious attention, probably missing and craving your presence.

"Didn't take you as a cat person," Natasha said quietly, still focused on Alpine.

"I don't mind cats but dogs would be more my thing if I had to choose." Steve huffed and Natasha raised a brow at him. "It's nothing, just a memory."

"Tell me?" She asked and Steve almost frowned at how small and childlike her voice sounded. 

"I remembered one day, we were crossing a small, almost deserted village in France back in forty-three and Bu--" Steve's voice wavered, he took a deep breath and cleared his throat, starting again. "And Bucky was real quiet that day, walking behind the group of us and out of sight. He talked to himself from time to time and told us we were hallucinating when we confronted him about it. He had this odd smile and kept hugging himself like he was cold, tightening his jacket around himself. Thing is, it was summer and all of us were desperately trying to not drown in our own weight of sweat but he didn't take it off the whole day. Turned out he couldn't hide it any longer when we set our camp for the night and we all heard the sound coming from Bucky's jacket. Had to wrestle him to show what he was hiding from us but after a while he gave up, opened his jacket and there it was, the smallest kitten I've ever seen in my life. Couldn't stop yapping and clawing at Bucky's shirt when it got exposed." Steve smiled fondly at the image of the bundle of fur nestled on Bucky's chest, barely bigger than the size of his palm. "He was having none of it when we said we couldn't possibly keep the cat, threw a huge fit and in the end, we crossed borders with it all the way to Italy. You should have seen him, feeding the kitten half of his food ration, sleeping with it curled in the crook of his neck, they became inseparable during that week. He was heartbroken when he had to give it away to some farmers in the Italian countryside, Dugan had to drag him out by the arm to make him move. Buck didn't speak to any of us for a couple of days after that."

The corners of Natasha's mouth lifted in a small but tight smile, "Y/N would love that story."

"I'm not sure if she's in her right mind for that just yet. I'm… afraid of how she would react."

Natasha hummed and gently picked up Alpine in her arms, placing her carefully on her chest to stretch her legs, feeling pins and needles in them after hours of sitting on the floor. 

"You lost your best friend, again. She lost her husband, and now her--" Natasha couldn't bring herself to say it aloud, the trauma of her childhood still there, lurking, unable for her to broach the subject. 

"I don't know what to do, Nat." Steve repeated for what felt like the hundredth time that day. "I need your help." And after a beat, "Take reinforcements with you if you need."

Natasha lifted her questioning gaze to him. Steve's eyes weren't on her, but on Alpine.

* * *

The glass door slid open, the sudden rush of fresh air sent a shiver down your spine and strands of hair fell into your eyes. 

You didn't deign pay attention to the visitor in the room and kept counting the tiles in the ceiling. There were thirty-six of them in total, you knew that, you counted them over a dozen times for the last hour but you lost track of the row you were at now, disturbed by the sudden entrance of… Alpine?

Alpine's meow sounded more like a shriek when she smelled you from the threshold, making a beeline to your bed and jumped on it, bouncing once when she landed enthusiastically on the mattress. 

You gasped at the sight of impeccable bright white fur but it turned quickly into a groan when she crawled atop your body to reach your face, inadvertently kneading her paws right on top of your soft and still tender belly. 

The shackles of your restraints were loosened and you didn't waste time to discard yourself from them, rushing to pull your cat tightly against your chest in a crushing hug. Alpine squeaked in your arms and you cupped her little head in your hands, dropping several kisses on every inch of her displeased face. 

"Hey, you. I missed you. I'm sorry you didn't see me for a while. I'm so sorry."

"She's alright, she's been fed and cared for. Shed white fur on my clothes for the next ten years, too." Natasha said. 

She sat on the chair Tony occupied earlier and crossed her arms on her chest, watching closely your reunion with Alpine.

"Thank you." You answered, still busy giving Alpine the love fest of her life. 

She finally calmed down after a couple of minutes and slumped down against your hip, curling into a ball. 

There was a heavy silence in the room, neither of you knowing where to begin. 

So, Natasha being the bravest person, started. 

"How are you feeling?" 

"That's a loaded question." You replied bitterly, you hoped Natasha knew she wasn't the recipient of your anger, nobody was in the compound but it was difficult to stay composed at the moment.

"If you don't want to talk about it now, or in the next hour, or tomorrow, fine. But I'm going to sit there until you do. Whenever you're ready."

It was startling how clearly you heard Steve in her words. 

"What if I don't ever want to talk about it?"

"You want to keep staring at the ceiling? Be my guest. I'm not going anywhere."

You swallowed hard and squeezed Alpine's fur in your fingers. 

"Can I-- Can I get something to eat first?" You asked. 

Natasha smiled and pinched your toe. 

"What are you in the mood for?"

"Anything excessively and repulsively sweet."

Natasha's smile turned into a smirk.

* * *

"Where did you find all these?" You asked incredulously. Your bed was partially covered in snacks and various other candy bags. 

"A lady never tells." Natasha replied, munching on a twinkie. "Don't tell Steve I didn't bring you broth or some other soup, I can already hear his disappointed voice over the fact those aren't a 'real meal'. As long as you get something in, I'm happy."

You blindly picked one of the nearest bags to you, Alpine plastered against your flank, still as a statue. Natasha noticed you struggling with the opening and she leaned forward, gently discarding it from your fingers and cracked it open for you. You unconsciously rubbed your swollen wrists and tried not to wince at the tenderness there after pulling at them multiple times during your fit. 

"When did you last eat, Y/N?" She slipped the packet in your direction and sat back crossed legged on the chair. 

"I don't know, I can't even tell you what day it is today. Everything happened so fast." You forced yourself to keep down the food, appetite threatening to disappear already. 

"I think time's irrelevant for everybody, it stopped since Wakanda." 

"For you, too?" 

Natasha looked down, "We didn't receive any news from Clint. I'm… I'm worried, the tracker has been disabled, I don't know if he did it himself or if he vanished like the rest of them."

"I wasn't thinking, I'm sorry, Nat." You put down the food and shook your head. "I've been selfish for the past few days, didn't pay attention as I should have. Thor hasn't spoken to anyone for days, Steve's a mess, even the raccoon is _sad_."

"It's not a competition of who got it the hardest, Y/N. Everyone reacts differently to what happens to them. But you really scared us, we didn't know what was wrong with you at first… I had to physically kick Steve out of the room when I helped Bruce do the medical check on you."

Your fingers twitched to reach out to your stomach again but instead, you buried them in Alpine's warm fur. 

"Is he okay? Are _you_ okay? I'm sorry you had to see this. That any of you had to."

"We're hanging in there. We don't get to choose."

"You don't have to take care of me. You do have the choice to refuse and I wouldn't blame you."

"Y/N…" Natasha said in a quiet whisper. 

"I mean it, you have your own shit to deal with. So does Steve, so does Bruce, so does Tony. I don't want to add another weight to all of you with my own problems, the universe has decided to take away the man I love and now my body by not being able to have the last thing in the world that I could hold his memory onto." You willingly let the tears come but you were too dehydrated and weak to even cry. "I wouldn't have been in the right headspace to be a mother anyway. I don't even know if I want to be one in the first place. Maybe I just desired that child because it was half Bucky."

You stopped talking abruptly, anger rising in your voice and you took a deep breath, letting out a shuddering breath after realizing you've almost been shouting. 

To an unused eye, someone would have thought Natasha's face was neutral, impassive. But looking closer, her eyes were wider and her jaw slack. To you, it was shock. To another, it would have been indifference. 

Good job, you had just succeeded to shake the unshakable. 

"I'm sorry, Natasha. I shouldn't have raised my voice." You sighed and leaned back against the bed. 

"I can't tell you how to feel, you don't need to apologise. I don't think any of us realize how deep your pain goes but it won't help you if you keep shutting the door in our faces, keeping all this bottled up. Steve's worried sick, I care about you because you're my friend and, hell, even Tony put aside three years of butthurt the moment he got wind of your condition. If that doesn't tell you anything, I don't know anything anymore." 

You briefly had to rewind the conversation you had with Tony when you'd woken up in the medical bay, how he had disobeyed direct orders to stay in bed after not being alright himself just for you, how he had genuinely wanted to comfort you as if you hadn't threatened him at knife point or shot him prior to this incident. 

Steve, bloodshot eyes and smelling of three days worth of sweat and fear mixed with your own blood. Too concerned by your well-being to care of his own.

Natasha, patient but stubborn. Strong as a rock and calm as still waters. Taking the time to talk some sense into you but ignoring her own feelings about the matter when you damn well knew what happened to her in the Red Room when she was younger. 

Your head was spinning. 

A shameful feeling made you gag with disgust the next moment, you immediately slipped out of the bed and landed painfully on your knees, your legs too fragile to carry you just yet. You crawled to the small trash can situated in the corner of the room and threw up, cleansing yourself of the rage, remorses and agony. 

There was nothing you could do to bring either of them. Bucky, the unborn baby. They were gone and you were not going to be alright for a long time but your friends were there, alive and begging to help you. You were part of the lucky ones to have them by your side when unfortunate people somewhere else in the world probably had nobody anymore. You weren't alone, you had to make yourself believe that. 

Natasha slid on the floor beside you, she gathered and held your hair up. She soothed you with a comforting hand on your back while you rejected mostly bile out of your empty stomach. 

Once physically and mentally empty, you shivered from head to toe, the hard tiles of the floor cold against your feverish body, there was a thin line to cross before total exhaustion.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up." Natasha gently ushered you to her own bathroom, supporting you with her arm firmly wrapped around your waist. "Do you need a hand?" 

You shook your head, "I think I can manage. Thank you."

"I want to stay in the room. Just to make sure you won't slip in the shower or pass out, is that okay?"

"Fine, fair enough." You stared at yourself in the narrow mirror of her bathroom and what reflected back wasn't somebody you recognised. 

You were pale, sickeningly so. Your face looked thinner and ghastly, your hair greasy and sticking to the sweat on your forehead, the short walk to Natasha's quarters draining the last reserve of energy you possessed. 

You undressed and stepped inside the shower, not minding Natasha's watchful gaze on your frail and naked body. You borrowed all that was necessary to wash yourself, slowly massaging your scalp and scrubbing furiously the dried blood under your fingernails. You made a quick affair of washing your abdomen and private parts, not wanting to dwell any longer on bad memories, blocking your thoughts the moment you arrived in the middle of your body. Natasha knocked twice on the shower door, checking if you were still okay in there. She was ready to burst into the shower the second you didn't give her ample reasons of why you didn't need her help.

"Nat, Jesus Christ. Give me the towel, I'm heading out!" 

Natasha passed you the towel in the exposed and open area of the shower above your head and you wrapped it tightly around you. When you walked out, her hands were already back on you. You heaved a relieved sigh, being now clean and feeling a notch less tense helped clearing your mind. Your legs were quivering by that point, the amount of effort it took to walk the few steps toward the bed made you see dark spots in the corner of your eyes.

She quickly rummaged through her drawer and handed you a spare set of pyjamas, you put those on and she kneeled behind you, using your towel to dry your hair.

"That feels nice," You hummed pleasantly, your eyes closing on their own accord. 

You both stayed quiet for a while, letting yourself enjoy the pleasing and relaxing effect of Natasha's ministrations on you and the simplicity of the moment. 

"I need to go see Steve," You said, "I have apologies to make."

"Last time I checked, Tony had pressured him into taking a nap." Natasha was now brushing your semi-dried hair delicately, being careful of the knots. 

You smiled, "Good. That's good." 

She squeezed your shoulder when she was done and got up from the bed. "Your turn, now. Lay down."

"What, here?" 

"You want to go back to the hospital bed?" She raised an unimpressed eyebrow. 

"No."

"Then staying with me it is. There's no more bed in your room, I can't possibly let you sleep on the floor. We can share my bed."

Natasha gave you a pointed look and you knew better than to argue. You bonelessly lowered yourself under the covers, Natasha smiled and stood near the bed. 

"I need to sort out a few things before I'm going to sleep myself. Don't wait up, okay?" 

You nodded, "Thank you, Natasha."

You fell asleep before she could even shut the door on her way out.

* * *

You would be lying if you said this wasn’t the most fulfilling night’s sleep you had in weeks. Your body was still sore but now down to a dull ache, and your mind had quietened. Waking up calm and feeling as if you’ve just been reset, you felt something tickling you and raised the covers slightly to discover Alpine happily snuggled against your chest. 

You whispered an apology to Alpine as you cautiously withdrew from the bed to not disturb Natasha, you didn’t know if she was a heavy or light sleeper so you grabbed a pair of socks and walked out the room as discreetly as possible, leaving the cat in the warmth of the bed with her. The room was still dark as you padded to the kitchen with a yawn, instructing FRIDAY to open curtains and windows to let in natural light.

Dawn settled a dim, pink glow in the room and you glanced outside. The world was as you left it yesterday and today would look exactly the same as tomorrow. There was nothing that could be taken from you, surprise you or disappoint you anymore. Nothing could be used against you, there simply wasn’t a single thing left that you could lose. Not only you, but the world has had a reset as well, you could now sense it in the air as it moved through you, feeling it low in your guts, coiled uncomfortably like a nuisance that taunted and gnawed. It gloated with the satisfaction that it took everything from you and you had to live in the hollow space of the shell that you became. 

Your left hand found its way to your lower stomach and you leaned forward, pressing your forehead to the cool window, using your right hand against it to keep you upright.

“I wish you were here, Bucky… I can’t do this without you.” You murmured, hoping that wherever he was, Bucky could hear you.

You let out a sigh and retreated from the window, you startled minutely when you caught Steve watching you with an unreadable expression from the doorway. You both froze for a second but the next, your feet moved without your permission and found yourself taking a step in his direction. 

And another one, then several.

Not stopping until you were able to throw yourself in his arms. Steve made a choked noise and hugged you tightly in his arms. You balled your hands into fists in his shirt, gripping it painfully as you physically dissolved into the hug. You dropped your face against his shoulder and apologised profusely, breathing in the comforting scent and warmth of Steve. He kept you wrapped in his arms for a long time, up until your knees almost gave out. 

Breaking apart, you smiled at him and didn’t comment on the wetness you found on his face.

“You shaved!” You blurted out and Steve snorted noisily.

He used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe his face, cleaning the evidence of his emotional outburst and returned your smile.

“Promise me you won’t do that again, Y/N.” He said, studying your face seriously. “Promise me.” 

“I promise. I’m so sorry, Steve. I wasn’t myself, I couldn’t think.”

“Okay, okay. I believe you. It’s just been really hard. I want you to be alright… _Bucky_ would have wanted you to be alright.”

“I know,” You grabbed his much broader hand in yours, “I feel like I lost everything but I’m realizing that’s not true. I have you. I have Nat. Even Tony, again. I have yet to come to terms with everything but Rome wasn’t built in a day, was it?” 

“I’m so happy to hear you say that. We’ll help you, you don’t have to fight alone,” Steve led you to the kitchen island and made you sit down, “Starting today.”

You hugged him sideways and Steve squeezed your shoulder affectionately. 

“What are you doing already up, anyway? Did you have something to eat yet?” Steve circled the island and started the coffee machine.

“Couldn’t sleep anymore. Don’t look at me like that! I did rest, ask Natasha. She graciously offered me her bed and I was a very respectful bedmate because I slept through the night. And no, I didn’t eat yet, you came just after I arrived.”

“Must have been a tight squeeze with Alpine in the bed.” 

“I think she slept against me all night, so Natasha rested just fine. I didn’t even wake up when she went back to the room with her.” You put your elbow on the counter and held your face in your palm, watching Steve start breakfast. 

“That’s good,”

“I have a feeling of déjà-vu. You, cooking in the morning after your run when I, on the other hand, had just woken up, being all bleary eyes and half-conscious. Couldn’t keep it together until I had my food while you were bullying me to not fall asleep right there.”

Steve chuckled, “Nobody would cook if I didn’t do it, had to take one for the team.” 

“Clint would have,”

“Do you call that _cooking_? I had better meals in the army.” 

“Okay, point taken.” You paused, thinking about it, “Bruce? Maybe Bruce.”

“Yeah, but he never did.”

“That’s because you were on the job already, who would try to stop you from making everybody’s favorite meal of the day, Steve?” You countered. “Once you start, you’ve got an etiquette pinned on your back.” 

“My etiquette would be ‘breakfast maker’ of the team?” Steve crossed his arms, “What would be yours?”

“I don’t know, giver of etiquettes? That’s a really stupid conversation, I’m sorry.” You laughed and Steve shrugged.

“Not the most stupid, I can recall far worse ones.” He slid the plate of bacon and eggs to you and your mouth watered instantly.

“Thanks,” You said and Steve nodded, both of you digging in your food.

“You know who makes killer breakfasts? Sam.” Steve said. “Sam cooks way better than me.” 

“When did he cook for you and why wasn’t I present?” 

“After HYDRA sent a nuke on Natasha and I in New Jersey,” Steve put down his fork at the memory, “And we had to lay low for a while.”

“Makes sense,” Silence fell in the room but you cleared your throat, catching Steve’s attention before he would get lost in his spiralling thoughts. 

“Here, I’m stuffed.” You gave Steve the rest of your food and Steve started to shake his head but you were having none of it, “Please, just eat it. I can’t eat that much after fasting for days. My stomach shrank.”

Steve sighed and played around with a piece of bacon for a couple of minutes before looking up, “But you eat with ketchup.”

“Shut up, Steve, it won’t kill you, you’ll burn the carbs when washing the dishes anyway.”

Steve laughed and couldn’t find anything to reply.

That’s how you found it again, the semblance of normalcy. 

You had not just lost love, a child but also your vision of your future and a part of your identity. A part of you had died, too. If this loss didn’t hurt, what you lost wouldn’t have been of value to begin with. 

You were going through a dark time and there would come a point where you’d need to start putting the pieces back bit by bit. 

Allowing yourself to grieve, to cry, to suffer and experience the truthfulness of the situation. It was your mind’s way of letting go, of adapting to the situation. No one could take that burden away from you, even your friends.

But what they could do for you, was to ride next to you as you were riding through this storm. 

And if in the process, you could give yourself the same love, kindness and care that would be extended to you in this situation then that would be a bonus. Recovery wasn’t a straight line, there would be many ups and downs but this wasn’t a race, the path you were taking toward feeling warm again would reserve many tedious moments but also surprising ones along the way.


	2. 2019: Anger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a shorter chapter, I didn’t realise the first one was so long until I posted it and it was too late. But each chapter represents a year and the stage of grief the reader is going through so it will vary. Enjoy :)

When Steve was happy, he was doodling. 

Needless to say, the house was covered with his drawings from wall to wall, ceiling to floor.

“For God’s sake, Steve!” You sidestepped the pile of sketches lying on the floor carefully, your balance wavering dangerously as the box in your hand was big and heavy to bring to the kitchen, a difficult task on its own already. “This isn’t your art studio, this is the living room! If I break a limb, it’s on you, pal.”

You heard a muffled ‘sorry’ from outside followed by hurried footsteps, Steve appeared in the room and snatched the box from your arms with an apologetic face.

“Thanks.” You wiped the sweat from your forehead and looked around.

Steve purposely avoided your scolding expression and changed topic before you could give him yet another lecture about shared spaces. “Is this for the kitchen?”

“Yeah, silverware and some cookware, too. There’s tons of stuff that has been delivered today, I gave the dude a huge tip for almost breaking his own back for helping me get all of this out of his truck. Didn’t we agree with Tony that we would decide together before purchasing something for the house? We shouldn’t leave him unattended, Steve!”

Steve fought a smile and you groaned, rolling your eyes. “You’re disgusting when you’re in love, Steve, you know that? And you have no sense of judgement anymore, completely biased, now come be useful for once and help me with the boxes.” 

You didn’t leave room for argument and Steve whispered an obedient ‘yes, ma’am’ under his breath behind you.

“Where’s he anyway?” You asked, bending down to take the smallest looking boxes.

“He went to the compound to collect the last equipment to install FRIDAY at home.” Steve said.

_Home._

You looked up at the cottage standing tall and strong before you and wondered: was it really home when something vital was missing? When the person you considered your home was gone? 

“-- and I told him you should do it. What do you think?” Steve was on the porch and when he got no answer from you, he turned around but you weren’t beside him. “Y/N?”

“Hmm?” You snapped out of your thoughts and moved to join him. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I spoke to Tony about how and who should get to organise the kitchen cupboards.” Steve stopped to study you and drew his brows together slightly, “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” You forced a smile but you knew Steve wouldn’t buy it the moment he saw it didn’t reach your eyes. “And sure, if Tony organises the same way he does in his labs and you with your art supplies, I’ll be damned.”

You dropped the boxes on the kitchen table and turned your back to him, hiding your shaking hands from Steve’s prying eyes. 

“There are also shelves for the lounge and my room that arrived, you do that while I unpack and organise?” 

“What’s the blue box?”

“It’s Alpine’s new tree. Bring it in but I’ll take care of it if you don’t mind.”

“Another tree? How many does she have?” Steve chuckled.

“The one in my room is small, she got bored of it pretty quickly. This one is taller, has toys hanging from it and enclosed spaces. It’s way more dynamic and stimulating for a cat like Alpine.”

“Cats nowadays have it too easy,”

“Watch it, Rogers, or I’ll add your socks to her toy basket.” You warned and started to gather the silverware in the sink for a first wash.

“Please, don’t. I never bought that many pairs of socks in my life before.” 

“A couple of socks won’t drain seventy years of stocked army checks,” You put the cutlery aside to dry and glanced at him, “Plus, pretty sure Tony pays for them now.” 

“You know what, I’m not going to answer that.”

“How easily Captain America blushes. Who knew.” You teased and it was Steve’s cue to leave, busying himself with manual work instead, putting aside affairs of the heart.

You sucked in a breath when Steve left the room, pulling yourself together with breathing exercises you had learned throughout the past few months. You would not let him see you like this and spoil his newfound happiness, Steve had worked hard to get what he had wished for years. You would feel guilty if you were going to be the stain on Steve and Tony’s joy, the start of their joint life already tarnished by your presence.

It had been hard for everyone to move on. To find the way that better suited them, to stick to it, to discover the meaning behind each action toward recovery and if it would be worth it after all.

Steve and Tony were among the first persons to achieve that goal because their answer was in each other. You had cheered and helped nudge them closer, the turn of events obvious all along for you. What took the longest was Tony’s obliviousness to the whole thing, it was not easy for either Steve or you but in the end, even Natasha got sick of it and had a role in the birth of their relationship. The people in the compound knew even before Tony realized what was happening right in front of him.

 _‘They’re gonna be insufferable from now on, aren’t they?’_ Natasha had said over a bottle of vodka, _‘You mean, more than usual? I’m afraid you’d be actually correct.’_ You had answered and clinked glasses together. 

And how she was right, indeed.

You’d seen Steve suffering alone in his undisclosed love, you’d seen how Tony acted when he was enamoured with Pepper, and you had seen the two men bickering platonically before this but now you were able to watch all this but being about an infatuated Tony with a now openly in love Steve. And you were caught in the middle, witnessing all this up close because Steve had made it clear since day one that wherever he would go, he wouldn’t leave you behind, that would mean having to sacrifice this in a heartbeat.

Tony had been momentarily hurt after that conversation, but not because of Steve’s threat of giving him up but for thinking for a moment that he would ditch you, feeling disappointed that Steve believed he wouldn’t want you in his life after all the things you two went through. The world was wide enough to fit you both, his heart big enough for love and friendship and money could buy a space large enough that he would never need to choose.

And yet, you couldn’t help but feel like a burden for them. 

Everybody had found a purpose in the new world, to be useful and helpful in equal measures whereas you had been stuck in memories, the grief and nostalgia still too strong to get over yourself. 

Life resumed its course but what lied behind the privacy of closed doors was what truly became of you. It was tiresome having to put on your veil everyday, hiding behind a well-constructed mask of your own making. You did everything that was in your power not to let them see the cracks beneath the surface but the machine was well-oiled now, the perfected act not foreign to you anymore and so far, you started to be really good at it. 

Today was an okay day thanks to the mindless and repetitive motions of having to organise cupboards, move and build furnitures, and clean the cottage. Today, you had not needed to think.

Slowly, the house grew cozier and it filled your heart a little more, the emptiness still dominating but now it had to coexist with those emotions, the ones you once knew and had to be taught again. 

It was late afternoon when you and Steve were through with the boxes. There wasn’t a single space available to step on, a layer of cardboards now covering the initial layer of Steve’s doodles. 

Tony was nowhere to be seen yet and Alpine had betrayed you by preferring the torn cardboard box to the newly built and complex tree at her disposition.

“Ungrateful brat,” You said, pointing at her pleased and unashamed face with a wrench, “You’re lucky Bu-- you’re lucky _he’s_ not here to scold you for that.” 

Steve noticed your slip and you ignored his inquisitive look. 

“She’ll come around,” Steve said and picked up Alpine from the box, placing her atop the highest branch of the tree. Alpine meowed and jumped from it almost immediately, placing herself back in the bare and shallow box, “Eventually.”

Defeated, you closed the tool box and sighed, running your hands in your hair. “I need a shower and then we’ll take care of this mess.” 

“At least somebody seems to enjoy this mess.” 

“I’ll pretend you didn’t say that,” You said and Steve snorted.

After your well-deserved shower, you slipped in clean clothes and by-passed the mess downstairs. First, you needed to go to the only other place that didn’t require a mask or an act. You walked by the lake and your feet carried you to a small path in the woods, you sat down on the rock you occupied each time and let out the breath you were holding since morning.

“Hey, Bucky.” You whispered to the small, baby oak tree facing you. “Sorry I didn’t come earlier, or for the past few days. Rough couple of weeks, if I’m being honest.”

The early evening breeze ruffled the tiny, sprouting branches of the tree, the leaves shaking slightly in the process as if it was giving you an answer, actually taking part in the conversation.

“Steve’s driving me crazy with his drawings everywhere, I found one in the fridge the other day.” Your smile quickly turned into a grimace, “I found one of you, even. Steve thought he was clever by hiding it under a pile of books while we waited to have our bookshelves delivered but he was never good at being subtle, wasn’t he? I think he thinks I didn’t see it but hey, pretences are all I am lately, it’s not that hard to lie anymore. Mastered your art of poker face, you’d be proud.”

You stayed quiet for a moment and drew your knees close to your chest.

“Who am I kidding, you fucking wouldn’t. So I'm burying my head in the sand for their sakes, and yours. I know they need me but they also have each other so, in a way, it would hurt less if I were to be gone, too. But it’s just wishful thinking, I won’t do it, I’m too much of a coward to take the morphine like I once wanted to. I’m sure Tony’s bringing FRIDAY in the house to keep an eye on me at all times, I can’t blame him.”

The tree rustled again and you looked up, the darkening sky making you shiver with the temperatures dropping by the minute. 

“I just feel like I’m fading, Bucky. I thought I would get better, I really did, I did my best but I can’t seem to get my spirits up no matter what I do. I try to enjoy things, to do what I used to love but it brings me no pleasure, no satisfaction. My chest feels hollow all the time and I can’t find what to fill it with. Steve and Tony succeed at keeping me afloat but that’s not their job and Alpine’s been really clingy, it’s clear she feels it, you know how she never spent much time with me when you were here. There’s--” Your voice broke but you forced the words out anyway.

“There’s this part of me, buried but still there, that hates you for what you did to me. That you inserted yourself in my life so deeply, that you changed me so fiercely and that I let you do just that without second thoughts, that now that you aren’t here anymore, I can’t function properly. You turned my life upside down for the better, I was so convinced to be your crutch that I didn’t see you were actually mine, and when the crutch got snatched from me, the landing was so painful it nearly killed me.

“Everywhere I go, I hear them say time heals wounds but I want to ask them if time can also heal a dead soul. Do you think it’s possible to fill that much empty space in a person? Maybe the only possible thing that could, would have been the baby. But I’ll never know now, I keep playing scenarios in my head over and over again about it. Imagining a life where I live to see a tiny version of you chasing after Alpine and finally feeling joy, it wouldn’t be the same kind of joy I used to have but it would be close enough so I would smile without having to practice beforehand.”

You leaned forward and stroked one of the leaves softly, your palms were clammy and you wiped them on your thighs while getting up from your spot on the rock.

“I don’t hate you. There’s a thin line between love and hate, I could never hate you. But I have so much anger and nobody to point fingers at. Everyday is a little harder, everyday is a little easier, it’s like I’m standing with my feet in two different boats and the current makes them drift apart until I fall in the water. One day, I will maybe find a lifeline but the water’s too deep and the current too strong to see it.”

You crossed your arms against your chest, hugging yourself tightly. “Until next time, Bucky.”

The route back to the cabin was always a challenge, your heart pounded and you had to dry your tears so Steve or Tony wouldn't question you about why your eyes were red-rimmed and wet. 

You took more time to reach the house, your breathing too ragged to hear your own thoughts just yet. But when your mind finally allowed you to head back there with only a slight tremor in your hands, you grasped the door handle weakly and made your way inside, having rehearsed yet another excuse of why you had been wandering outside, not wanting to tell them about the private and secret place you had built for yourself. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust them, on the contrary, but this place was yours and you wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible. Keeping something that was solely created in Bucky’s memory. 

You smelled onions and thyme when you entered the cabin, the sweet sizzling sound of a hot pan echoing faintly. The back and forth chatter of the boys just separated from you by a wall.

"I don't know where she goes every night, what she does out there," You heard Steve say and you froze, you approached on silent feet to keep their conversation undisturbed. 

"Having a walk? Praying? Just taking a break from having to spend her day with us? You occupy a lot of space, Steve." Tony answered. 

"I'm serious, Tony. I worry about her." 

"Let her breathe, she'll be fine. You can't monitor her like she was a kid."

"I know that. I just don't want her to go spiraling again, she's improved a lot. Seeing her take two steps backward everytime she takes one forward would pain me."

"Steve," Tony said and you heard the chair scraping the floor harshly, "She also needs to have her own life beside us, what's a little walk in the woods on our own property? Maybe she's talking to _him_."

Your heart slumped in your throat and you tried not to choke on the suffocating emotion that submerged you. 

"You think so?" 

"How can someone so smart as you can be so clueless at the same time? Of course she'd be talking to him, I talk to myself all the time."

You could practically hear Steve's eye roll from your hidden spot. 

"Alright, fine, that's plausible. You're right--" 

"--of course I am--" 

"-- _but_ I hope she knows she can talk to either of us whenever she wants."

“I don’t think I’d be as good as you for the whole speech thing side of it but I can help with the changing subject and joking part.”

“That’s debatable, actually.” 

“You wound me, Cap.”

“If she ever would want to go eat a burger and go bowling afterward, that’d be surprising, that’s what I’m saying. I hardly see her doing anything that isn’t writing in that diary and petting Alpine, she just looks so… lost in her own mind all the time.” 

“I think I have to teach you a thing or two about dissociation, Steve. It’s a coping mechanism, that’s how she avoids overwhelming stress instead of fighting or running from a situation. Be glad she does that and not something worse. There’s nothing you, or me, can do, big man. Let her come to us in her own terms or you’ll push her into retreat without meaning to.”

“How do you know about all this?”

“I’m simply very observant.” 

“Why do I have a feeling you’re lying to me?”

“Okay, fine. I may or may not have asked Natasha about it.”

What.

“What?”

“Look, I care as much as you do, and we both know very well she’s too stubborn to ask for help. We tried to make her understand that and she’ll nod and say yes but did she ever come forward?” Tony let the question hang and Steve didn’t answer, “See? She hasn’t.”

“There’s so many things I did wrong,” 

“Hey, it’s nobody’s fault, I’m in the same boat as you here. That’s why I called Nat, be it sisterhood or feminine instinct, whatever, she always knows best.”

“Oh, I’m so going to tell her that.”

“I dare you, Steve. The couch will welcome your ass for a week if you do.”

Steve let out a chuckle and you pressed further against the wall, listening more closely.

“I miss him as much as she does, Tony. Obviously not in the same way but I miss all of them. I wish I could talk about Bucky without her bolting out of the room the next second. She won’t even say his name anymore, so if she talks to him, I’m glad that she doesn’t want to forget about him but at the same time, she doesn’t try to save herself either. It’s like… It’s like she’s letting herself die.”

“And that’s called depression.”

“Nat told you about this, too?” Steve replied, you could feel how heavy his sarcasm was hanging in the air. 

“Nope, that’s just past experience talking.”

Another audible sigh from Steve, “I wish Sam was here, he’d know what to tell her. Tell _us_.”

“Well, you can always be Steve and act as Steve, the one she’s friends with.”

Having heard enough, you pulled away from the wall and you soundly made your way to the front door again. Exaggerating your fake entrance in the house to make your presence known to them. Alpine came trotting to you with a loud meow, asking for your attention which you very much obliged and picked her up, cooling your expression down to a blank look and buried your face in Alpine's warm fur, taking a deep breath. 

"Y/N?" Steve's figure appeared in your line of vision and then Tony stood beside you shortly after. 

"Who else, Steve?" You joked but Steve's worried expression didn't falter and turned to Tony. "Oh, hey you, didn't see you at all today."

Tony grinned and approached you, he was way better than Steve at masking being caught off guard. "Hey yourself. You hungry? Steve's making homemade burnt onions."

"Wha-- oh, shit." Steve disappeared in the kitchen and all you heard was the commotion of a pan being abruptly seized and thrown in the sink. 

Tony couldn't stop the giggle that came out of him and he intertwined his arm with yours, leading you to the kitchen in a lazy stroll. "You were both hard at work today, the house's looking amazing already."

"You ordered so much unnecessary stuff, it took me twice the time to organise the kitchen because I couldn't fit everything properly. What didn't you understand in 'consulting each other before buying anything related to shared living space'? Please, Tony, I'm already at war with how Steve doesn't understand that the whole house isn't his art studio." 

"Alright, I'm responsibly taking the blame for wasting money on kitchen gadgets since I sacrificed my right to have a lab." 

"You can't live without robots, can you?" 

"That's why I brought FRIDAY here," Tony said and you cocked your head to the side to study him. 

"No underlying reason? No secret project we're unaware of?" You asked lightly but with a hint of seriousness, trying to decipher FRIDAY's real purpose in the house.

"Ever told you you were too smart for your own good? Always questionning everything,” Tony gave you an approving nod, “but FRIDAY isn't going anywhere. It's the twenty-first century, everything is controlled by a computer nowadays, I just took it to another level and made it fully Artificial Intelligence controlled instead. That's just how things work."

"Say that to Steve."

“What about me?” Steve cocked a brow at the two of you.

“Contrary to what you think, Steve didn’t object to FRIDAY.” Tony told you with a clasp of his hands.

“It’s easy enough to bribe him, now.” You innocently glanced between the two of them and resumed petting Alpine in your arms.

Steve feigned busying himself with washing the ruined pan to hide his blush but when he was flustered, the color of his nape was also matching the shade of his face. Nice try, though, Rogers.

Tony shoved his left hand in his pocket and his right wrapped around your shoulders, continuing the tour of the house at a slow pace. The urge to withdraw and excuse yourself to your room grew stronger after each abnormal and tense quiet second. Silence didn’t suit Tony, it meant he was mulling over something in his head and you were caught in his trap without any means to get out.

“You would tell me if you were bothered about something, hm? FRIDAY, the air fryer or, I don’t know, something either Steve and I did.” Tony said, stopping in front of the window that gave view to the lake.

You focused on Alpine for a few more seconds before answering Tony. You looked up at him through the reflection of the window. 

“Just promise me you won’t appoint FRIDAY as my babysitter. We’ve come this far, Tony. I would hate to have trust issues between the two of us again.”

“You think I’m bringing her here to supervise you?”

You watched Tony’s eyes grew wide and his hold on your shoulders loosened. 

“I don’t know, I just can’t have her poke around all the time. Give a report to you or Steve everytime I feel sad or stay in bed all day, do you know what I mean?”

“I can promise you it wasn’t my intention. Steve’s already nosy all by himself.” 

“You do share that crown together, then.” 

“Ouch.”

“Don’t pretend otherwise.” You turned to give him a small smile.

“Let’s make a deal. No setting up FRIDAY in your room and I get to keep the bread maker.”

“What bread maker?” 

Tony pinched his lips together in a thin line and looked at you with round eyes. 

“Tony!” You let out a sigh, “You’re the worst but fine, what’s more useless robot you won’t even use.”

“Great. Good. That’s settled. Now come eat some dinner.” 

“I’m not really hungry.” You rolled your shoulders and felt weariness wash over you after a long day. “Keep some for me tomorrow? I’m this close to passing out, I’m longing for my bed right now.” 

Tony chuckled and didn’t argue, he squeezed you against his chest briefly in a ghost of a hug and let go.

“Apologise to Steve for me, will you? I’ll let you guys have a date night.” 

“That’s so thoughtful of you. Me, Steve and his half-burnt dinner. Couldn’t have done better.” 

You bumped his shoulder with yours and didn’t try to hide the smirk that curled on your lips. “I’m not worried about you, you’ll find something else to snack on later tonight.” 

“Go to bed, young lady.”

“And that’s my cue to leave.” You said and took a few steps in the direction of the stairs. “Good night, Tony. And thank you.”

Tony nodded, waving a hand dismissively and wished you a good night as well. 

But your night was short-lived, no matter how exhausted you’ve been after a day of manual labor, your body was decidedly not in the mood to cooperate. Your stomach painfully growled and you stubbornly rolled on your side to ease the deep hunger. On the verge of drifting off again, Alpine started to scratch the door to be let out. 

The clock on your phone showed one seventeen in the morning in a bold and bright hue. You squinted at it and buried your face in the pillow, groaning loudly as you cursed Alpine for her perfect timing. 

Begrudgingly, you got up and wrapped the bed covers around yourself. Alpine sprinted down the stairs immediately and you ventured there in your turn. 

The kitchen was dark as you padded silently in the room in search of the leftover you hoped Steve put aside for you. You found a plate covered in foil and your name written on a sticky note on top. The food was still lukewarm when you dug in without heating it up, too hungry and impatient to put it in the microwave… And you weren't sure how it worked yet in the first place. You hummed as you quickly finished the dish, not bothering sitting down as you ate leaning against the counter. 

Trying to be as quiet as possible, you let the plate soak in water in the sink, making a mental note to take care of it in the morning. Hunger now satiated and feeling the pleasant buzz of sleep gaining you once again, you made your way back to the stairs but your eyes caught the soft glow emanating from the lounge before you could reach them. You frowned, wondering why you hadn't noticed somebody's presence in the next room.

First, you saw Alpine having found Steve's lap, blinking lovingly up at him while Steve was absently scratching the right spot behind the cat's ear. 

Second, you glanced up at what was playing on the TV and your heart dropped. 

You must have made a strangled noise because next thing you knew, Steve turned to you with a startled look and immediately reached for the remote. 

"Please, don't!" You nodded at the remote he was already pointing at the TV, finger hovering over the on/off button. 

"Y/N. I didn't hear you come in."

But your eyes weren't on Steve, you couldn't take them off the black and white images that were playing in front of you, there was no sound accompanying the video but you could hear them in your head just as well. 

The video wasn’t all centered on Steve, it surprised you somehow. You had seen multiple newsreels in school and being an Avenger also brought forth the need to know about your teammates. But this one, as you stepped closer to the screen, didn’t ring a bell to you. You searched in your memory but you couldn’t remember it, the behind-the-scenes kind of domesticity that wasn’t either over-acted or brute force showcased for the American citizens, both nowhere to be found. It was more intimate and private, the amateur, off-center of the camera clearly meant that no-one from the PR team that accompanied them during the war had shot what you were seeing.

Usually, the movies showed Bucky never far off in the background. The right hand man of Captain America always by his side but never the center of attention. As you kept watching this, you noticed that Steve avoided being on camera though, and the rest of the Commandos finally enjoyed having it pointed in their direction, laughing and cracking up jokes long forgotten. 

The exhaustion was clear on their faces, they all seemed to have sharper and hollower looking cheeks after each passing day but nevertheless, they shared the same comfort at having something warm to eat and a place to sleep. 

“I’ve never seen this one.” You said to Steve but still looking at the TV.

“It’s, um, personal archive. They’ve been vetoed out of the campaign because Dugan appeared butt-naked on one of them once and the team didn’t want to look through them again so started filming their own stuff afterward.” You heard Steve scoot to the other end of the sofa and you took a seat.

“There are many?” 

“A few, yeah. A couple of hours that didn’t make it to the public eye. I asked Tony to upgrade the quality, I think they turned up nicely.” And after a beat, “Don’t you think?”

A small smile stretched on your lips and you nodded, “I do. I just wish it had sound.” 

“Me too.”

Steve and you spent some time watching in silence except for the few tidbits Steve remembered and explained about what was currently happening in the films. It displayed light-hearted moments, the more serious and intense ones specially reserved for the cinemas around America and Europe. Your favorite moment so far had been the one where six grown men (technically seven but somebody had to hold the camera) tried to boil water atop a dying fire in the middle of winter. Bucky wasn’t doing much except for rubbing it in after another failure everytime Dernier or Falsworth tried to shove him away from the scene. He kept looking at the camera and, you guessed, commented everything they did in a teasing and (mostly) annoying manner but Bucky charmed his way through everything back then, the unsubtle way he used to flirt with the camera as everybody had a job to do behind him. The cocky smile taking over the fatigued eyes, the unheard quips and jabs thrown at his friends and the eyerolls he got in response, but above all, the lines of his face not yet haunted. 

It was still a war but he looked more himself, like a young man his age was supposed to be. However, with all the atrocities he had endured in his life, this war had been the kinder one. 

Not long after, your head grew too heavy to support on your own and you didn’t register the moment it dropped on Steve’s shoulder.

You fell asleep to the image of Bucky smiling at the camera and when you woke up hours later, alone and sprawled on the couch, a thumb drive sat on the coffee table for you.

* * *

You were in a rather good mood after that, your heart feeling the lightest it’s been in months and you spent more time around the boys. Alpine noticed it too and was glued to your side all day, couldn’t leave you in peace while you were bathing either, she needed to yell at you at all times and who were you to deny her this right? 

Tony, now labless and ears full of cat meows, even hid in Steve’s art room but was kicked out twenty minutes later by a sullen-looking Steve.

“Trouble in paradise?” You asked over a cup of tea.

Tony narrowed his eyes at you, “I close my eyes at night and all I hear are her screechings.”

“Are you sure it’s just not Steve’s snores?” 

“How can such a small animal be so loud? I can’t hear myself think!”

“What do you even need to think about?”

“That’s not the point.”

“Have you tried ear plugs?”

“You’ll pay for that.”

“Sure, what could it cost? Three dollars? Hey, FRIDAY, can you look up--”

Tony groaned loudly and stormed out the room, heading to the small dock that lounged the lake. You put down the cup and followed him outside, the late August-heat warming your skin as you lazily went after him. Tony didn’t acknowledge your presence once you reached him standing at the end of the dock, holding his hands behind his back as his gaze was fixed on something in the horizon. You blocked the sun with a hand shielding your eyes and finally, Tony turned to you.

“What are you thinking about?”

You shrugged a shoulder, “That I’m lucky enough to have this view everyday.”

“You seem... ” Tony hesitated and shifted his weight from one foot to another, “More cheerful lately. Why’s that?”

“I work hard on myself for that and I already feel horrible as it is for you guys to be around me when I have my bad days. Can’t have that all the time.”

Tony nodded thoughtfully and pressed the issue, “Did something happen?”

“Believe it or not but you have a lot to do with it, you and Steve.” You averted your eyes and ignored Tony’s eyes studying you. “I don’t know where I’d be without you two.” You added quietly.

“I know where you’d be.” Tony said but you didn’t have the time to ask what he meant that you felt his hand push you overboard with a proud ‘in here’.

What Tony didn’t anticipate though, was how quick your reflexes were. In a blur of movements, you sloppily grabbed the nearest thing you could of his outfit and made him lose his equilibrium, tumbling in the water with you with a splash.

You broke above the surface first and a second later, Tony shook his head to dry his hair like a wet dog. 

“You vile little thing, come here!” He swam toward you and you shrieked as he tried to drown you, pushing your head underwater. 

The two of you bickered and fought mercilessly for a while, Tony exhausted his list of techniques to have the upper hand quickly and you succeeded at shoving him underwater for the longest period of time. 

“You cheated!”

“How could I cheat, just accept your defeat, tin man!” 

Your laughter drew some attention and in the corner of your eyes, you saw a white ball of fur trotting toward you, her meows growing louder as she approached dangerously close to the edge.

“Not you again,” Tony gently splashed some water toward Alpine without any real intention to do harm, “Shoo!”

It did the opposite effect and you saw it coming before it even happened. 

“Alpine, no--!”

But it was already too late, Alpine toppled over the dock and her little body fell in the lake. Fortunately for her, you were within arm’s reach and effortlessly fished her out of the water. Alpine clawed at your sleeve and crawled on your shoulder, finding leverage there. She let out broken and miserable meows in your ear and Tony laughed so hard you wished you had drowned him earlier. 

“Well, next time look where you’re going, you idiot! Look at you, you’re shivering, let’s get you out.” You said and kicked your feet in the direction of dry land. You put Alpine down on the dock and lifted yourself out of the water next, immediately picking Alpine back up in your arms to give her shuddering body some of your body heat.

Tony copied you and discarded himself of his wet shirt and pants as soon as he got out. Your eyes unconsciously drifted to the scar in the middle of his chest but Tony didn’t seem to notice, too busy showing himself off. The summer weather did all the work as you walked back to the house, only your hair was still humid once you set foot in the kitchen, your skin freshly dried after a short sunbath. 

Steve emerged from his room, dark smudges of his pencil plastered on his face, and looked back and forth between the two of you. 

“What happened?” 

“He started it.” You answered innocently.

“She threw me overboard.” Tony corrected and Steve looked him up and down, realizing in what state of undress he was.

“Tony, you should put some clothes on.”

“Yes, _Tony_ , my eyes can practically see your ass in that.” You interfered and Steve was seconds away from locking himself back inside his art studio.

“What, it’s like I would wear a swim trunk.”

“Except you’re not and, right now, your underwear is white and almost see-through.” 

“Alright, you know what we’re gonna do? I’m going to put on some clothes and we’ll go out to go buy a barbecue the minute I’m _decent_ enough for Captain Prude here.” Tony said and hung his wet clothes in a clump on his shoulder. 

“Like, an actual grill?” You asked and Steve was already shaking his head, wanting nothing to do with it.

“Did I not make myself clear? Be back in five.” Tony climbed the stairs two at a time and disappeared from view.

“You can refuse, he would understand.” Steve said with a pained expression.

“No, I-- Well, technically it’s a group decision this time.” You joked.

“Wasn’t what I meant.” 

“Steve, I’ll be fine. I can handle the outside world, I’ll be a little rusty but it doesn’t require that much people skills, Tony will do all the work.” You grabbed a clean cloth in a cupboard and rubbed it dynamically on Alpine’s still semi-wet fur, who looked bored and unphased as you did so. 

“Okay, I trust you. It’s going to draw too much attention if I join you but I want you to call or tell Tony the moment you feel overwhelmed.”

“Tony’s going to attract all the attention, I won’t even be seen.” 

“Just… be careful.” 

You gathered Alpine in your arms and softly pushed her in Steve’s arms, who held her against his broad chest questioningly. 

“She’ll keep you company, she’s got many evil things to tell you about your boyfriend.” 

Steve made a sound between a chuckle and a groan, you let him handle Alpine from here and went to change yourself. Clean clothes always felt nice on your skin after having spent some time enjoying a swim. You grabbed your sunglasses and went back downstairs where Tony was surprisingly waiting for you there, his own sunglasses already on his nose. He dropped a kiss on Steve’s lips before leading you to the car and you couldn’t help but smile at the open display of affection, still finding them adorable in their never ending honeymoon phase.

You waited until you were seated in the car to comment, being safely outside of Steve’s earshot but Tony, knowing you all too well, cut you off instantly.

“Shut your mouth.”

“You guys are just adorable. I discovered new shades of pink and red on Steve’s face I never even knew existed before.” You teased.

Tony grinned and started the engine, “You wouldn’t believe how far his blush goes.”

“Well, now that’s just putting images in my mind, Tony.”

“You asked for it.”

“Just drive already.”

Once Tony was given carte blanche to do something, he wouldn’t do it by halves. He knew how to spend his money and he knew it _well_. You were suddenly glad that Steve wasn’t present otherwise you weren’t sure who would have had an aneurysm first with the insane amount of money Tony was spending for a barbecue grill and its equipments. 

The clerk couldn’t hide how elated he was the moment he realized two Avengers had chosen to shop here one wednesday afternoon. You were polite but curt with the vendor when he tried to make small talks with you, happily leaving Tony with him and to their back and forth babbling about the difference between gas and electric grill, and cost effective maintenance on the long term. You had stopped paying attention after a painful half an hour having to witness Tony trying to dismantle a few grills to check their fiability. You had wondered why Tony simply didn’t build one if he was that picky in the first place. 

You browsed the different aisles absentmindedly, having randomly found your way to the animal section of the store. You picked up a few items you thought Alpine would find endearing: toys, treats and even a cooling mat. 

You were about to take off and beg Tony to just choose a damn grill already, the sausages would cook the same way anyway, when someone cleared their throat behind you. 

“Excuse me, Miss? Are you Y/N Y/L/N?” 

You turned your head in the direction of the vibrating-looking teens to your right and braced yourself for the interaction. You forced a smile and nodded, you couldn’t blame their excitement and meeting fans always had been an important part of your life before, you just needed to keep your anxiety in check and everything would be fine.

“It’s Y/N Barnes now, dumbass.” The ginger girl said to her friend in a hushed tone but you heard it anyway, “I’m sorry, we didn’t mean to bother you but it was too good to be true!”

“I can’t believe I’m seeing an Avenger in the flesh,” The blonde one said, their rapid flow of words making your head spin.

“Hi, um, I was just grabbing some stuff for my cat--”

“Can I just say how much I look up to you? It must be hard for you to be a widow, you were so cute together you and Bucky Barnes, my friends and I always rooted for you since we saw those pictures of you two online so when we knew you were officially dating--”

“Pictures? What pictures?” You heard yourself ask the teen, you didn’t know about any pictures of you and Bucky together being released anywhere.

“God, you’re so embarrassing, Emma--”

“Jeez, I waited my entire life to meet her, give me a sec!” She not so gently nudged her friend in the ribs and resumed her monolog at you. “All I’m saying is it's _goal_ to be an Avenger and having married one-- Holy shit, are you okay?”

You felt her hand on your elbow and something twisted in the pit of your stomach. Lightheaded and weak the next second, you lost your balance for a moment before you recovered, dropping all your items on the floor with a loud clang. It echoed awkwardly in the relatively quiet place and you ignored the two girls to make a beeline for the nearest bathroom.

The panic settled hard behind closed doors, shaking you so violently your knees buckled and you collapsed on the filthy floor just in time to empty your insides in the toilet. Your hand trembled so much you almost couldn’t bring it up to flush the toilet, everything around you worked in slow motion and what normally would take a couple of seconds, ended up taking all your energy and concentration. 

You knew that, eventually, everything would come crashing down the moment you allowed yourself to be remotely happy. That if you didn’t hold Bucky in your thoughts constantly, the guilt of his disappearance instead of yours would somehow come back to torment you ten times harder than it previously was. 

You had made phenomenal improvements the past weeks but now, hyperventilating on the floor to the vivid memory of your fingers slipping through Bucky’s face, dust coated under your nails for days, you were back to square one because two enthusiastic teenagers said Bucky’s name. 

All it took was this, your panic attack triggered in the blink of an eye because you were too weak to face the reality of lost love and the world couldn’t walk on eggshells like Tony and Steve had indulged you for too long since that day in Wakanda. 

Somebody was knocking on the door but your heart was pounding in your ears, rendering the words of whoever was on the other side intelligible. 

“Y/N? Hey, Y/N, it’s me. Open the door.” 

Tony.

Shit. You didn’t want him to see you in this state, the feeling of being a burden at the forefront of your mind again when he knocked softly on the door a second time. There was no way you could get out of this situation without having to face him.

“I called Steve, he’s on his way.” He paused. “It’s okay, you can come out, I made sure the store was cleared to get you out.”

You heard a sigh followed by pacing. 

“Talk to me? Tell me you can hear me.”

“I’m sorry,” You blurted out, your voice hoarse from the puking and the crying.

“That’s not what I wanted to hear. Are you alright?” 

You let out a bitter chuckle and Tony stopped his pacing.

“Yeah, I deserved that. Okay. Can you unlock the door or do you want to wait for Steve?”

“I can’t.” 

“I can open it for you--”

_"No."_

“Okay. Okay. I won’t do that. But if you can’t instead of won’t, that’s different.”

You gave him no response.

“What happened, Y/N? There’s those two girls that found me, screaming you almost fainted before them and didn’t know where you went.”

You swallowed bile down as a fresh wave of nausea washed over you and you pressed your forehead against your knees until it physically hurt.

"We can go home as soon as you come out, Y/N. Talk to me."

"Can't, Tony. I _can't_." 

"Steve, dammit, where are you?!" You heard the muffled mumbling of an agitated Tony in the small room and hugged your knees tighter against yourself. 

"I'm going to do the talking, then." There was a slight rustling noise just outside the door and you guessed Tony had sat down, his back to you. "I don't hate him, you know. Your man. It's still hard for me to separate the murderer from the man but I had time to think and I had to accept the fact that the most important person to you and to Steve was him. That if I can't get over myself, I would lose the both of you, again. You happened to marry that man and he's been Steve's best friend since before I was even born, so there's no competition here. Steve would choose him over me in a heartbeat and so would you, I got that fact thrown in my face a couple of times before, haven't I? But--" Tony took a deep breath and slowly let it out, "But I'm not gonna talk about that, it's not my point, this is in the past. What was my point again? Ah, yes. Barnes, I let my emotions take the better of me and I'm not the best at apologising but if I could, I would apologise to him. I promise you, if one day, I have the possibility to actually use my words instead of my fists, I would tell him I'm sorry for believing HYDRA over Steve and you. There's nothing I can do about it right now and you don't even have to believe me but it matters to you and to Steve, and you're my friend and I love him. Yes, I said it, I love him and I have to make his friends my friends. God, Rhodey would clap or tear up, I dunno, if he heard me. And besides, I never got the chance to peek inside that arm of his, talk about wasted opportunities here.

"I hope I don't make it worse, here. A little help, Y/N?" 

"Do you really mean it?" You said just above a whisper. 

"Do you think I promptly made the longest speech in my career in a dirty restroom just to ease you out of a panic attack? Laid my heart on my sleeve to you just to please you? And you'd be correct about it all because I'd do it again if it meant I succeeded."

You involuntarily smiled at that and you felt the constrictive pain in your chest lift off a little, allowing you to breathe deeply and normally again. The tears stopped a while ago and every muscle in your body ached after staying in a stiff position after what felt like hours. 

As if on cue, the main door opened and you recognised Steve's singular and determined footsteps echoing in the room. 

"Hey, I'm here," Steve tried the door handle but to no avail, "Y/N, I knew it was too soon. I'm sorry this happened, unlock the door, please. We're bringing you home."

Getting your feet to support your heavy and uncooperative body was the hardest part, but you stood up and leaned against the restroom stall as you unlocked the door slowly. Tony and Steve looked up in unison and Tony was already on you the moment you stepped out. He didn't wait to pull you in his arms, cupping the back of your head as you tiredly dropped your forehead in the crook of his neck, letting him take most of your weight. 

"Thank you." You murmured sincerely and Tony kept you upright, holding you until you decided you were well enough to stand on your own. You glanced at Steve and gave him a reassuring smile, his own smile was lopsided and looked more like a grimace but he relaxed visibly when you gave him a thumb up. 

"Let's go home." Tony said and the words appeased you. 

Home.

Home was where Alpine was. Where Tony and Steve would feel the most comfortable to bicker at. It was where the ridiculous bread maker was. 

You could make a new home out of this. It didn't have to be now, or tomorrow. Home was a nomad concept, it could be wherever you want. 

You just needed to give yourself permission to let it be your home. Maybe you could even feel warm in it one day. 


	3. 2020: Bargaining

The doorbell rang. 

Steve, who was seated with your feet under his thigh at the other end of the couch, looked up with the same confused expression as you. He put aside his pencil and sketchbook with a frown while you carefully placed back the pen in your journal, closing it distractingly. 

“It’s Happy!” Tony’s cheerful voice echoed down the hallway.

“Happy?” Both Steve and you said in unison. 

Tony peeked his head inside the room, “Yeah, didn’t I tell you guys he’d be coming?”

“I don’t think we would forget about the only visitor we would have in the past two years, Tony.” Steve retorted and stood up, smoothing down the crinkles of his pants.

“I’ll get it!” You enthusiastically climbed over the couch and jumped back on the floor, running to the door. You almost collided with it as you opened it frantically, revealing a much more composed and calm Happy than you were. 

“Hey, there. Long time no see.” Happy smiled at you, all teeth and cheeks.

Pouring all the joy of his sudden visit in a crushing hug, you heard his faint but distinct grunt when you squeezed him a bit too tightly.

“Hands off, Y/N. My turn now.” Tony said somewhere behind you but ignored him.

“It’s so good to see you, Happy. To see a familiar face.” 

Happy patted your back in response and you let him go. He hadn’t changed a bit, he was still wearing his formal suit and carried himself with professionalism even when it didn’t call for it. 

You all took turns to greet and welcome Happy and you let Tony show him around, eager to have company in his  _ lonesome  _ life. Steve chuckled lightly when Tony chewed Happy’s ear off during the whole duration of the tour and it made your warm inside the way Steve looked at Tony when the latter wasn’t looking, they both came a long way. They deserved that happiness. 

“Should we come to the rescue?” You leaned against Steve when Tony reached the seventh consecutive minute talking about the stand-up mixer he had deliberately hacked to add FRIDAY inside.

“I think we should let Tony have somebody that actually listens to him for a change.”

“So you admit it, you don’t listen to him either.” You lifted a brow knowingly.

“Eh,” Steve crossed his arms defensively but fought a smile, “Sometimes I get distracted after a while.”

“Have you ever tried kissing him to shut him up?” 

“It doesn’t work like in the movies, Y/N.”

“How would you know?” 

Steve’s indignant scoff got interrupted by Happy and Tony’s return and something drew your attention to Happy.

“Is-- How come I didn’t notice you’ve got a beard now, Happy? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with one before.”

“It's my... My Blip beard. 'Cause I grew it in the Blip. It's a Blip beard.” He answers, slightly stroking his chin with pride.

“I’m sorry, “Blip”?” Steve interfered just before you were able to yourself.

“Oh, yeah, that’s what the kids call it these days. Most of them think it’s only a temporary thing.” 

Steve and Tony’s eyes momentarily flickered to you but you only shrugged dismissively.

“I wish them luck when realization will hit them as hard as it did to me. Denial is a very difficult thing to cure.”

“Some of them just have hope left in their lives, it’s a way to cope as any other.” Happy said.

“I know.” The smile on your face concealed bitterness underneath, “I happen to be aware of that better than anyone.”

“Should we postpone this conversation for later?” Steve said.

“Yes, I’m sorry. I don’t want to ruin your day with us, Tony has enough in store for that all by himself.” You nodded in agreement.

“What have I done?” Tony stepped in, a shadow of offence plastered on his face.

“Nothing.” You raised your arms in surrender. _ “Yet.”  _

Tony simply huffed and the look Steve gave you could be perceived as his Captain America’s “Be Nice” look. Which you obliged, nobody in their right mind would attempt crossing the man after being on the receiving end of this indirect order.

The party of you migrated to the lounge where leisure took place instead of hostility, which you left at the door for everyone’s sake. It was difficult to feel mad at the universe on a daily basis, it was draining and frustrating you to no end. The more you tried to tame yourself, the less grief let you control your emotions. So you became quieter in order not to say the wrong thing that could trigger another unwanted shouting match. 

Which happened only once and still blamed yourself for it.

It happened a couple of months after Happy’s visit. You had been on edge for the most part of the week and if you were honest, you were waiting for the perfect moment to be able to finally blow up. Looking for a fight, asking and begging for it. The blood in your veins was boiling and you were almost shaking with the intensity of the anger you felt, you needed to let it go, the slow build reaching a point of no return. 

Tony had made a comment about how empathetic he felt because he, too, had lost people that mattered to him when you were watching yet again another sugar-coated documentary about the recreation of the snap. 

“You can emphasize but can’t know what it feels like.” You had said and the floodgate of nasty words opened. 

“What do you mean?” Tony had asked, the shell-shock at your words was clear on his face.

“Well, I’m sorry Tony, but you’ve still got everybody that is close to you: Steve, Rhodey, Happy, Natasha, even Pepper. Thor and Bruce are still here, too. Sure, the team’s changed a bit since the Accords and what happened afterward but you kinda have it easy compared to some of us.” 

“I’ve been called selfish so many times in my life that I couldn’t care less about it now but wow, Y/N, never in these words. That goes straight in the top three of the lowest blows you threw at me.”

“I said you have it  _ easier _ , Tony, I’m not implying that you don’t feel affected at all.”

“You have no idea--” Tony jumped on his feet and faced the window to avoid having you in his line of vision. “Absolutely no idea what and who I lost in this war, there’s-- there was this kid, he--” He stopped himself immediately and you could hear a fly in the room with how silent and tense suddenly the two of you became. 

“What kid? You had a  _ kid _ ?” Your eyes grew wide and Tony sighed.

“Not in the way you think. God, nevermind about him. My point is that even before what Thanos did to all of us and after his death, I lost many more people I wish I could bring back today and Peter is one of them.” Tony clamped his mouth shut, the name slipping out and now he couldn’t take it back.

“Who’s Peter?”

But Tony frantically shook his head and started to pace the room, deep in thoughts.

“Tony,” You tried again, more gently this time. “Who’s the kid?”

“You know him, actually.” 

“I do?” You tore your memories upside down to associate a name to a face but you came up empty handed.

“The red and blue wall-crawling spider in Berlin. That was Peter.” Tony slid his glasses from atop his head and pushed them to sit on his nose, shielding himself again from vulnerability and guilt, and from you.

“The one that couldn’t stop talking, Jesus, how old was he? Why was he here in the first place?”

“Needed a backup plan, we were gonna be outnumbered and there’s not a lot of part-time vigilantes I could give an upgrade without raising the alarm. It was pretty easy to track him down, the boy has no sense of self-preservation and needed to be taught a thing or two in his burgeoning superhero career.”

“I either don’t get it or there’s plot holes in your story. How come he could not only put me down but also Sam and-- and Bucky? He webbed us down, pinned us to the floor, and also lifted a car while looking a hundred pound soaking wet.” You remembered him well, how his constant comments and sense of awe at fighting actual Avengers went on and on throughout the entirety of the fight. If it hadn’t been for the matter at hand, you could have sworn he would have asked for autographs. 

“That’s a long story, the kid’s gifted and pretty much a genius. He reminds me of myself and I wanted to give him the things he was lacking, money, a secured future and the tools to be the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man he worked hard to become.” 

It was strange to see Tony talking about this kid with such deep fondness, you had inevitably hit a nerve without even considering you had done so, too blinded by the volatile and selfish parts of you. 

“What do you know of pain, anyway.”

You were ready to let it go, to suck it up and call it a night. You would have apologised about your emotions getting the better of you, except the apology died on your lips the moment Tony had to say  _ this _ . 

“What did you say?” You were livid. “I beg your fucking pardon, Tony?”

“I ask you, Y/N. What do you really know of pain? Do you want to play ‘who’s suffering the most’? Then let’s play, not sure you can win against half the world’s population.”

“Don’t twist my words! You can be such a hypocrite sometimes,” You stood up and Tony finally turned from the window to face you. “I saw my friends, my team, all of them vanish in front of me--”

“You’re not the only one.”

“Wakanda was thriving, now they lost their King. Asgard was already no longer existing so when Thor finally found help again, he had to live from one genocide to another because of Thanos. And you have the nerves to compare yourself to them, to  _ me _ ? Who you saw at what was possibly my lowest point in my life, you were the first one in the med bay when I woke up, you talked to me, comforted me. Are you reevaluating our friendship again because you lost one wanna-be-Avenger kid?” 

“I felt this  _ kid  _ die in my arms because he tried to protect me, because he was too stubborn to protect himself first and disobeyed me thinking he could make a change by trying to help. He didn’t even hesitate even if it meant dying in space! You can’t understand, you didn’t know him like I did.”

“Should I? Well, I’m sorry we didn't have the chance to properly introduce ourselves between the punches we threw at each other at the airport. From what I gather, he was too busy drooling over you and defending you and your ideas. Which were all wrong, if I recall.”

“Are you going to bring this back on the table everytime something doesn’t work your way? And you call me a hypocrite? I’m sure you don’t even remember why I was so hurt, I had all the right to be since you decided to side with and protect a murderer.” 

“For the last time, Tony, he was brainwas--”

“HE KILLED MY PARENTS!” Tony’s sudden shout stunned you, all the muscles in your body growing tense when he went toe-to-toe. “In all these years have you ever thought of how much I've worked to reconcile those ideas? You, loving the husk of the man that took everything from me. Steve, choosing him over me time and time again. I know, believe me, I  _ know  _ I’m just the convenient choice.”

“Does it always have to be about you, Tony?  _ Your  _ parents,  _ your  _ love life,  _ your  _ kid.”

“Bold of you to say that since it has been all about you since we moved here. Why do you think we even chose this house in the first place? To get you out of the compound, to get you better!”

“I don’t need sitters, Tony. I told Steve that many times, I can take care of myself.”

“You can’t stay alone, you proved that to us before. I recognise the pattern, I speak from experience.”

“Then you’d know that you can’t go any deeper when you already reached rock-bottom. I asked for friends, not guards, Christ. Is this what this is about, Tony? That you can’t have the life you want because I’m here and that you’re not the only thing in Steve’s life at the moment?”

“How many times do I have to say that I care about you just as much as Steve does. I even apologised for what happened to Barnes--”

“ _ Bucky _ . Not Barnes. Did you even mean what you say about your apology or were you just bluffing?! You don’t get to talk about him like this, I won’t let you stain his memory. For the last three years before the decimation I helped him dig up the man he once was from the few scraps left within his broken self. What he endured for seventy years will never be as hard as your entire lifetime. So excuse me if I believe it when I say you have it a little easier than some.”

“Get out.”

“What?”

“Get out of my face, Y/N. I just-- I need you out.”

“Fine. Your choice. Good luck explaining where I am to Steve and why.” 

You rushed to your bedroom in a frenzy and Alpine’s little head perked up from your abrupt arrival, she let out a single confused meow and your heart sank into your throat. 

“I’m sorry, baby. I will see you later, okay? I will tell Steve to take care of you for a couple of days.” You kissed her warm nose and how you wished in that moment to just slip under the covers with her and cozy up together. You never wanted something more than this but right now, you couldn’t stand the sight of being cooped up in this house, couldn’t bear to be in the same room as Tony before one of you would lash out and find a way to kill the other once for all. 

A backpack laid untouched and slightly dusty in the corner of your room and you haphazardly threw the first necessities inside: a change of clothes, your toothbrush, your journal and Steve’s thumb drive before storming out of the house. You straddled the parked motorbike (thanks to Happy’s previous visit, he had surprised you by digging up Bucky’s bike from your old countryside home) and you sped into the last lights of day without a second glance. 

Later, much later, already weary from a day spent listening to people’s griefs and having to deal with their damaged lives, Steve didn’t expect to be welcomed home with his new job following him there.

With a long sigh, he rolled his neck and rubbed his nape, eager to sit down and disconnect from the outside world for the rest of the night. 

What he found there, waiting for him, was the aftermath of a battle. Steve was used to picking up the pieces after a mission often but having to do so in a private environment, it was ten times more tricky. Being an Avenger for years had proved it more than once. 

Wishing for a quiet night turned into stumbling upon an intoxicated Tony on the floor of the living room. It was mostly dark, Steve had almost thought everybody had gone to bed when he set foot inside the house, but switching on the lights, he heard an unmistakable groan coming from Tony.

“Hey, having fun without me?” Steve looked down in amusement, believing you and Tony had one too many drinks and it had ended up with Tony sprawled on the floor and you passed out someplace else… 

When Steve didn’t get an answer, his eyes searched for you. “Where’s Y/N? Is she in bed already?”

“She’s gone.” Tony slurred and vaguely pointed in the direction of the front door.

“Gone? What do you mean, ‘gone’?” Steve crossed his arms and frowned.

“Being gone usually means that the person-- the person in question physically left. So… she left.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Why? What happened?”

“We said pretty bad things at each other,” Tony gulped down the rest of his drink and dangerously swayed on his feet when he stood up.

“For God’s sake, Tony! Do you know where she went?” Steve grabbed his phone a second after and dialed your number only to be sent straight to voicemail. 

“I don’t know, don’t wanna know, really.” 

Steve hurried to put back his shoes and jacket, the exhaustion letting place to dread. 

“So that’s how it is, huh?” Tony said from the other room, Steve barely could decipher what he was saying above the drunken pattern of his words. “I say  _ we  _ said pretty nasty stuff to each other but you run after her first, alright, I get it. Go.”

“She could be having another panic attack as we speak, Tony. You remember how it turned out last time she was in public! She turned off her phone, I have to find her!”

“Give me a break, Rogers, she doesn’t need to be coddled all the time! She’s an adult, she can handle herself without you rescuing her every time.”

“It’s never gonna end, isn’t it? Can’t you accept her into your life like you did with me? Everytime I think you two are on the same page again, you prove me wrong. It’s been two years, I thought we were past that, now! And two more since Siberia, Tony! You love me even knowing that Bucky is my friend, you forgave me for knowing about your parents, why are you so fixated on not giving her the same treatment?”

“And why do you never take my side?! Not once, Steve, not once you were in my corner when Y/N and I argued, I know Barnes’ a touchy subject but can you be objective once in your life and see you aren’t being partial or fair to me?”

“I don’t have time for this, I need to go.”

“When you find her,” Tony warned, “Don’t bother coming back here.”

The only answer Tony got was the sound of the door slamming shut.

* * *

New York was seemingly abandoned when you arrived, last time you were in the city was a long time ago. There were a lot of boats around the docks, all deserted and in a pitiful state, the pristine white turning yellow and moldy with unuse. You passed a baseball stadium with no life present at all. The consequences of the decimation was evident and Earth had not coped well. But nature was healing at the same time as you saw a pod of whales when you came up the bridge in the Hudson. 

Fewer ships, cleaner water. Wildlife was claiming what was rightfully theirs.

The engine of your bike stopped its purr when you parked in the familiar place you once called home. You stretched your legs after the long drive, living upstate had its perks and you didn’t miss the life in the city but a visit at the compound was long overdue. 

Natasha was already waiting for you by the door, she was worrying on her lower lip as you approached, only sign of her confusion with your unannounced presence so late at night. Her hair was a perfect blend of silver and red and you felt a strong pike of bittersweet emotions at the sight of her. You had missed her a great deal and in this very moment, letting yourself wallow in self-pity wouldn’t prevent you from being one phone call or visit away.

“Hey, Nat.” You secured your bag on one shoulder and brushed your hair away from your face, the storm only minutes from breaking out.

“Hey yourself,” The right side of Natasha’s lips lifted in a sideway smile. That worried, huh. “What brought you here among us waywards?”

You shrugged your shoulders in an attempt at appearing casual, like it was no big deal to have barged in near midnight on a Wednesday night. Friends did that all the time. 

_ Right?  _

“No reason, needed a change of scenery, I guess.”

Natasha sighed and grabbed your shoulders, her thumbs digging in the meat of your skin through your thin jacket painfully as to coax the truth out of you.

“You never lied to me before. Don’t start now, Y/N.” She said in a serious tone, looking you dead in the eyes.

“I missed your no-nonsense face.” You chuckled wetly and it was too late to wipe the rogue tear on your cheeks from view, Natasha caught it immediately in her line of vision and pressed her lips in a tight line.

“Did something happen with the two pigheaded boys? It was only a matter of time before one of you imploded.”

“I’m so tired, Nat…” Your voice broke and you took a deep breath, “Of everything. Steve thinks he’s a therapist now and Tony still holds a grudge. And I miss  _ him _ so much, I thought it would lessen with time and I’d heal but I break down at the mere mention of his name. It hurts to even say it out loud.” 

“Come here,” Natasha pushed you inside the building and locked the door behind you, she didn’t waste another moment to pull you in her arms. “Do I have to shoot somebody?” She felt the slight shake of your shoulders in response and counted this as a win.

“I could use to let off a little steam, honestly. Just to relax. Shooting stuff or stabbing a few dummies could help, it’s been ages.” You straightened and smiled at her, you used the back of your sleeves to erase the wetness around your eyes.

“You came to the right place, then.” She held your hand in hers and led you further down the familiar building to rest and forget about the troubles simmering at home. Your only regret was to leave Alpine behind and not warning Steve of your departure. You hoped you hadn’t worried him and that Tony hadn’t painted you as the villain even if, deep down, you knew you deserved the mantle for acting like you did.

Natasha placed a hot drink in your hand it smelled of chamomile with an underlying and unmistakable taste of vodka. You coughed in surprise and she shot you an unimpressed look followed by one of her trademark smirks. 

“That was unexpected but welcomed.” You took another sip and the taste grew on you the second time around.

“Homemade Russian recipe.” 

“Pretty sure the real recipe doesn’t involve chamomile.” 

She bent down to retrieve the near empty bottle of vodka standing out of sight behind the armchair and shook it slightly, “Got my fair share to sleep through the night already.”

“Must be lonely out there, the tower was already spacious as it was back then and I didn’t have the chance to settle in the compound like the rest of you after Sokovia but this place is huge. The few months I spent there were enough to make me dizzy.” You let out a humourless chuckle and swirled the rest of the liquid in your mug. 

“Sometimes Rhodey stops by with the blue girl and the raccoon. Radio silence concerning Bruce and Thor. Carol’s on some other planet I can’t pronounce the name of and Okoye is overseeing Wakanda by herself and her squad.” She crossed her legs on the armchair and smiled sadly at you, “Steve stays in touch and he’s the only one of you guys that deigns to drive his ass there for a visit.” 

“I deserve that.” The rest of the vodka had a pleasant burn in the back of your throat as you gulped down the rest of your drink. “I would apologise but I don’t know if you want to hear it.”

“Depends on the apology.” She answered not unkindly.

But you came up empty handed.

“I have a lot to apologize for, I can’t find a suitable reason for my own silence. To be completely honest with you, I haven’t left the cottage in the last couple of years except for that one time I did and I had a panic attack so bad, Tony had to clear out the whole store.”

Natasha cocked a brow but quickly recovered, letting you continue with your story and attempt at an apology.

“I have nothing I can defend myself with except for self-pity and anxiety. It’s not all perfect at home between Tony’s rancor and Steve’s obsession to fix everything that is out of his control. I’m overjoyed with the fact that they finally settled down with their feelings for the other but they can be explosive at times, even though that isn’t breaking news.”

“So what made you come all the way here?”

“I was dumb enough to look for a fight. I don’t know what got into me, I just said the wrong thing at the wrong time and it escalated from here. Tony said things about Bucky, that old broken record of his and I lost it, he knows too damn well how to trigger me and I  _ hate  _ it. Turned out I wasn’t aware about something and he didn’t appreciate me questioning him about it.”

“What was the thing?”

“The kid he lost.”

“The kid he brought with him to Germany? I mean, the Spider-Man guy he recruited from Queens?”

You nodded, “I didn’t know they were close and he was as defensive about him than I am when it comes to Bucky. So you can imagine how bad it was, Nat.”

Natasha chewed on her lower lip again, staring at something in your direction but not  _ at  _ you. She sprung on her heels and disappeared only to come back carrying a cardboard box in her arms. You eyed it suspiciously when she started to rummage through it, she made you sit on the carpet with her and handed you a single photograph. 

Twin goofy grins were reflected back to you and turning the picture upside down, you read: “In appreciation of your successful work with the Stark Industries Program PETER PARKER has shown exemplary work in the Science and Technology division”.

You stared a bit more at the picture, taking in the very youthful face of the kid --  _ Peter,  _ and realizing how much younger you initially thought he had been. He was not only a kid but he had had yet to graduate High School, making him around fifteen or sixteen at most when you threw hands with him in Germany. You had fought a child and Tony’s protégé, wounding him by questioning his relationship with the boy. Not only had he upgraded the whole Spider-Man equipement but also given him a chance to be even greater in his civilian life as Peter Parker, the young student from Queens. Tony never did something by halves and when his mind was set onto something, he would put others before him or give them the means to achieve their goals. 

Peter had been all this at once for Tony and more by the glimpse of hurt and grief he had shown during your fight. You just wished he had told you about Peter before everything came to a head.

But then again, you weren’t one to ask for things you had done yourself in the past. 

“Where did you get it?” You whispered, your eyes still studying the pure giddy joy on Peter’s face.

“It was in Stark’s room before you moved out. There were a few things he left there and told me he would come pick them up later but he didn’t, so I packed everything in that box. You can keep it, bring it home.” _ When you will both seek a truce, _ was left unsaid.

You peeked inside the box and there weren't a ton of things inside, but what stood out immediately was a destroyed Iron Man helmet netled between other papers stamped with the Stark Industries logo and other certified government documents. You put back the photograph inside and closed the lid. 

“I’m beat,” You rubbed your eyes, the idea of somewhere soft to lay your tired body sounded amazing right about now.

“We’ll talk more tomorrow. You need some sleep, you look like shit.” Natasha said with a smile, which you returned.

“Thanks, I know.” You let out a chuckle.

“There’s a lot of rooms available, take your pick.”

You completely avoided the idea of coming back to your old room, the memories associated with it too painful for you to spend a night there. Your mind was already plagued with nightmares, it wasn’t the best timing to bring back other ghosts. Steve’s room always had been the cleanest of the rest, even after two years you could bet it still remained intact. You would feel safer there, a blank canva was what you needed, not the full horrors that painted your bedroom.

After exchanging good-nights with Natasha, you headed straight to Steve’s room. You uncovered the bare mattress from the sheet protecting it and let in fresh air to clean the stale and dusty smell of the room. Pillows and blankets were still stocked in the drawer which you picked and piled up on the bed. The mattress was slightly too firm under you but that didn’t come up as a shock, you knew of Steve’s habits.

You didn’t even bother putting on sheets, simply tucked yourself in bed, placing your journal atop the nightstand and putting the polaroid picture you snapped of Bucky back in Wakanda in a standing position above it to face you, addressing it a quiet goodnight as you fell asleep. 

The nightmare that usually woke you at dawn in cold sweat wasn’t one you were used to brushing off after a shower. It was the kind that clung onto you all day, the kind that everytime you closed your eyes, it was playing behind your eyelids until it was imprinted in your brain and made your eyes burn. 

You were never surprised upon waking to see your hands shaking heavily and having to scrub the skin under your nails until they were raw to remove the dust and blood from your nightmare. Your bad dreams were always reduced to the same one but only the ending varied from one night to another depending on how cruel your mind had decided to be. 

Sometimes it was simply a rewind of that day, the dust settling in your hair, suit, eyelashes, the feeling of Bucky’s body vanishing against you. This one was easier to cope with even though it was the dream that edged closer to reality.

Sometimes the dust turned into blood. Thick and sticking to your hands as you applied pressure onto Bucky’s bleeding abdomen. Vanishing turned into dying in your arms, seeing the life in Bucky’s eyes slowly fade until they were glassy and unresponsive. This one could make you bedridden for a couple of days at a time, the shaking and the crying rendering you incapable of moving. 

Oddly, it was always reality that was better to be taunted with than the many other different versions of Thanos’ snap. You could handle reality, you had lived it, but the endless different and imaginative ways of being unable to protect Bucky, to save him, were harder to face.

Today, it had been the recurrent nightmare with the real ending. 

Small mercy. 

Waking up in an unfamiliar bed, you dragged yourself to the shower and started the routine of the soap under your nails and the tears mingling with the hot water. There was nothing a hot shower couldn’t fix in mild days like these. You then changed in your spare set of clothes and made your way to the kitchen, following the scent of caffeine and bacon. 

But your stomach churned at seeing Steve behind the stove instead of Natasha, your already fragile appetite turning into slight panic instead.

“Steve?”

Steve almost gave himself a whiplash with how fast he turned his face in your direction.

“Hey,” His shoulders sagged perceptibly when he looked you up and down then back up again, probably assessing any injuries, “I’m so glad to see you and one piece, I’ve been so worried.”

“How did you know I was here?” You patted your pockets in search of your phone only to realize you had turned it off and left it in your bag since your arrival.

“I told him.” Natasha said behind you, always the best at sneaking up on you, “Though he was already on his way. Doesn’t take a genius to figure out where you would have gone.”

You gave Natasha a hard look and she crossed her arms, not being apologetic about her decision in the slightest.

“I’m sorry if I worried you, that wasn’t my attention.” You sighed, “But I needed some space. I’m sure Tony spat his venom already.” 

It was Steve’s turn to sigh, “You’re not making it easy for all of us and neither is Tony. You’re not making it easy for  _ me _ . It’s like supervising siblings and it’s exhausting, I always have to find the right balance between being a partner to Tony and a friend to you.”

You winced, looking at your feet in shame to avoid his eyes. The righteous anger from the previous day having faded to doubt and guilt.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s not fair to you but I feel like there’s things left unspoken between me and Tony and sometimes it just--” You shrugged miserably, looking for the right word, “Backfires.”

Steve put down the spatula on the counter and Natasha broke the ice first. She grabbed you arm gently and led you to the table, her grip turned firm when she pushed you down to take a seat, “Sit. And Steve, sit.”

Steve obeyed almost on autopilot. He took the seat opposite from you and Natasha excused herself with some generic excuse, claiming to have a call scheduled with Rhodey to let both you and Steve have a moment to talk properly.

There was an uncomfortable silence that seemed to stretch to what you deemed awkward enough for you and decided to start the conversation on safe territory.

“How’s Alpine? I left quickly yesterday, I hope she didn’t meow all night.” You said with a forced smile, the last image of the cozy and sleepy head of Alpine popping in your mind, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

“I wasn’t here last night either,” Steve said and that caught you off guard, “I came home and you weren’t here. Tony… Tony wasn’t himself, I was worried about you so I went to look for you.” Steve continued but his voice was tight, pained. As if he wasn’t telling you all of it.

“Please don’t tell me you had a fight because of me.”

Steve’s silence was your answer.

“Oh, God.” You rubbed your face with both hands and took a deep breath, hidden from Steve’s view to collect yourself. 

“I don’t know what exactly happened but I can guess it wasn’t pretty. I can also guess the topic. All I know is that I’m caught in the middle again.”

“You shouldn’t have to be, because it concerns me and Tony, but in the end it concerns you too. The circle never ends and I don’t know how to stop it. We’ve tried, you know we did, and it worked for a time but then it’s back to square one, always in the back of our minds. There’s never a moment one of us isn’t thinking about it when we’re in the same room. It’s horrible but it’s the truth, Steve.” 

“I wish you two could put aside your differences, not only for my sake but for our collective peace of mind. We built a home together, you’re as much part of my life than Tony is, I can’t see it without either of you, we have to make it work somehow, there isn’t any other option.” 

“I know,” You said, nodding slowly. “But sometimes I wonder if you ever thought about if Tony never came back? If he disappeared like the rest?”

“I try not to.”

“Why not?” The words came out harsher than intended so you quickly tried to salvage where the conversation was pointing, “It’s not a reproach, Steve. I just wish I had the same willpower as you.”

“I try to focus on who's still with me, I have plenty on my plate to start with. If I allowed myself to go there, to think about what could have happened and what didn’t happen, let’s say it would make it harder to change the impossible.”

“Is that what you say during your sessions? Did it ever work or are they drinking your words like prayers because you’re Captain America?”

“I know what you’re trying to do and I’m not looking to start a fight with you. Besides, if you’d come with me like I asked you to, you could ask them directly.”

“Not that again. I told you, I don’t need cheap therapy.”

“Resentment and grief make you rude, Y/N.” 

“I didn’t mean to say it like this.” You said. “Sorry.”

Silence fell again and you could feel the disappointment radiating off Steve in waves, it was also easy to read it on his face, he was greeting his teeth and frowning at the table.

“Tell you what. I come with you if you promise me not to make me participate.”

“If you promise to come once every two weeks.”

* * *

In the end, you both ended up breaking your promises. 

You had decided to stay at the compound indefinitely which pleased Natasha and made Steve a little fidgety. He had to deal with the back and forth trips between the house and the compound. Steve had brought Alpine with him when he came to visit the second time, only a weekend after your initial departure. 

He didn’t talk much about what was currently going on at home but you could see the lines on Steve’s face were always tight and tired, he looked somehow paler and thinner after a couple of months of being a buffer between you and Tony.

After only visiting the makeshift support group four times in the span of four months (and counting), Steve had his mind set on pressing the matter at hand and said to hell with consequences. It had been a two-way promise and you had broken your end of the bargain, Steve had to intervene and remind you of the value of promises.

When you took your usual seat in the circle, a few familiar faces gathered around you, Steve more often than not glanced in your direction while somebody else was talking. So when he finished his reheated ‘baby steps’ speech, he looked at you almost defiantly and cleared his throat.

The little shit, you were going to kill him for doing that.

“Y/N, today marks your fifth visit. I always encourage my volunteers to speak up on that important celebration. Would you like to say something?” 

Slowly. You’re going to kill him  _ slowly _ . He was making up that excuse to make you talk, you never heard about that bullshit fifth celebratory day before, he was plainly lying and you had no choice but to suck it up.

Eight pairs of eyes, including Steve’s, turned to you with an encouraging and patient smile. You eyed the door longingly but knew Steve would follow you and you wouldn’t leave the others to their own devices here while you stole what probably was the moment they looked forward to the most each week.

So you tried to ignore the rising panic in your chest and started to think about something to say.

“Well, I’m here mostly because Steve made me and you can’t fight Captain America from bodily dragging you somewhere. I’m Y/N, by the way, but I think you all knew that already.” That earned you a few snorts and chuckles among the crowd and you continued. “We all lost somebody here but when I listen to all of you, the first thing that comes to mind is the word ‘warrior’. You are the heroes now and it’s you I look up to because I’m not a warrior, if anything, I’m a coward. I can’t even bring myself to say his name without having a meltdown afterward, it’s still as painful as if it happened yesterday. The pain is… too raw. I know he would be disappointed if he knew what goes inside my head all the time. If it wasn’t for Steve, and Tony--” You said sincerely and spared a glance in Steve’s direction, “--I probably wouldn’t be here to tell you all this. I’m grateful for them but I’m also thinking about where my friends are, where  _ he  _ is. What happened. I still don’t understand and it’s not knowing that drives me crazy.”

You paused, letting the words sink in and took a breath.

“Next Tuesday would have been our second wedding anniversary and I keep thinking about how we didn’t celebrate, how we just wanted to be each other’s. Everytime I receive mail or somebody uses his last name,  _ my  _ name, it hurts. It sounds stupid, really, but it doesn’t bring me the joy it once did and it’s like I’m letting him down, and it’s making me angry at myself. 

“Healing, or trying to, it’s like wading into a fog. It’s dark and the mist is thick, blurring your senses. You can’t find anything to grasp, to ground yourself. You’re alone and lost but all you can do is keep walking forward but what you do is not knowing that you’re walking in the wrong direction, that you’ve been walking backward all along.

“And the nightmares won’t leave either. I keep seeing his face vanishing under my hand, the look of fear in his eyes, the confusion in his voice when he said my name before collapsing. And then he was gone. So I am sorry, but I can’t move on.” You looked up and the tears you had tried to keep at bay spilled on your cheeks, “I’m sorry, Steve,  _ I can’t.” _

Your flight response had been activated after that, you didn’t try to conceal your tears and stormed out the room. A second later, you heard footsteps chasing after you and Steve’s strained voice echoing in the hallway, calling your name in a desperate attempt at stopping you. When you didn’t, he caught up easily with your pace and clasped a large hand atop your shoulder, spinning you to face him. 

“Y/N, wait--”

“Let go, Steve, or I swear to God--”

“Just calm down, hear me out.”

“Let go! Leave me alone, just leave me, please--”

But Steve didn’t listen and his grip on you grew stronger, making you wince in pain. You tried to wrestle your way out, to land a few hits, and Steve accepted each punch, each verbal assault with the patience of a saint. In your fit, you tried to pull away, harshly pushing your hands against his chest to free yourself but Steve was marble, he didn’t even flinch when you started to scream in your frustration. He took the fists thrown at his chest without complaints but as you grew weaker and weaker, the blows stopped when there was no air left in your lungs. Steve held you in his arms, letting you wet and cling onto his immaculate shirt as he stroked your hair calmly.

“I miss him, too.” Steve said in a broken voice.

“It should have been me,” You cried, “Not him. I would take his place in a heartbeat.”

“I know you would. You have always vouched for him, you always did.” 

“It should have been me.” You repeated the sentence over and over again until your own voice was hoarse. 

_ It should have been me. _

_ It should have been me. _

_ It should have been me. Another decision taken for him, another death, another freewill he won’t get back. It should have been me, not him. Not Bucky. It should have been me so he could  _ be _.  _

_ I didn’t fight hard enough so it has been him and not me.  _

The drive back to the compound was a blur of complete lethargy and utter fatigue. You plopped down on the passenger seat with such lifeless and dead eyes that Steve took a moment to collect himself before he hopped in the car as well. 

Stepping in the familiar, spacious space of the compound, your official on and off home for the past two years, you trudged into the living room and when Natasha’s eyes landed on your face, she turned to Steve with her brows furrowed.

He gave her a small shake of his head but it was the last straw for Natasha. She closed her book with a resonating snap which made you finally react to her presence.

“What happened?” She asked, why was her voice tinged with anger?

“I told him not to bring me here. I told him not to make me participate.” You answered, your mind still fuzzy and you rubbed a hand on your sweaty face. You didn’t try to hide the glimmer in your eyes, Natasha could tell you’ve been crying just by the raspy echo in your own voice.

She crossed her arms and uncrossed them quickly, you could see her nostrils flare in the corner of your eyes and she watched the two of you with shaking hands curled in a fist.

“Suit up.”

“What?” Steve and you said in unison.

Natasha ignored Steve, “Gear up. Suit up. I don’t care. Meet me in the west wing in five.”

And just like that, she left. 

The west wing was the training area, the gym and shooting range. All the essentials for a superhero, a super-soldier or just a very sport enthusiast could dream of to be able to train like a professional.

It went without saying that the idea of bringing your combat suit with you here didn’t cross your mind. Shuri had disposed of your old one and so you made your way to the west wing with a pair of sweatpants borrowed from Natasha and a simple t-shirt.

Natasha was there already, wrapping her hands in a way you recognised all too well. 

She didn’t spare you a glance as she tucked the white cloth under the piece around her wrist, clenching her fingers to test the solidity of her work. Steve was standing in the back, still in the entrance of the training room, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, feigning nonchalance. You focused your attention back on the redhead and your guts could tell you Natasha meant business and not just sparing for keeping you in shape. 

In the blink of an eye, the sweet kiss of Natasha’s fist collided with your jaw, knocking you off balance and sending you flat on your ass. 

“What the  _ fuck _ , Nat?”

“Get up.”

Your fingers skimmed on the tender flesh where you already knew a spectacular bruise would form within an hour.

“Why? So you could kick my ass again?”

Steve approached the ring in a few long strides but the heated glare Natasha gave him almost made him flinch. He knew where to back off when Natasha wasn’t remotely in a joking mood.

“Stand up, Y/N. Don’t make me pull you up.”

“What got into you?”

Natasha straightened in a fighting stance and kept her eyes on you. Slowly, you pushed yourself on your feet and rolled your neck, feeling rusty with practice.

“Alright, we’re doing this but why--”

Another punch. This time right in the ribs.

You winced and didn’t try to cover up the sound. 

“Come on, Y/N. Fight back, I’m right here.”

“What if I don’t want to fight you? Have you thought of that?” You pushed your hand against your flank, soothing the building pain with your warm palm.

And again, you saw her aiming but you successfully dodged her punch, and the next one, but the third one, her vicious throw got you in the nose. You licked your lips and tasted the unmistakable bitter taste of blood, coppery and heavy on your tongue. You wiped the trickle of blood trailing down your nose with the back of your hand and stared at it. 

“Why?” 

The question seemed to unnerve her even more and she bodily slammed into you. She tried to hit you several times but you only stepped to the side or slapped her hands away, refusing to fight back. It wasn’t a sparring session, it wasn’t planned, and you struggled to understand the reasoning behind Natasha’s sudden need to knock you down.

She was faster, always had been, and had you in a tight chokehold. You gasped, both in surprise and by the abrupt cut of air supply in your lungs.

“It won’t bring him back.” She said dryly in your ears. “All that anger and grief. Letting yourself rot. You stopped living, you’re not even trying to survive, you’re slowly dying.”

“What of it?” You rasped and she tightened her arm around your neck.

“It’s not you, Y/N. You’re not even fighting me back when I punch you. Get your shit together, it’s not what he would have wanted.”

Tears prickled at the corner of your eyes and you swallowed thickly, your nails dug in Natasha’s forearm but she didn’t acknowledge them.

“I see what you’re trying to do. I’ve seen you do it before, and I always promised myself I wouldn’t let it happen a second time.” 

You threw a furtive glance in Steve’s direction and he was watching the exchange, his eyes flicking back and forth between you and Natasha with worry and the desperate need to intervene but it would seal his death warrant if he crossed a single toe in the ring.

“Self-destruction isn’t the solution. Self-pity isn’t either.”

You tried to cough, to let in some air again but she was set on this one particular task of wheedling a reaction out of you.

“He’s gone. Barnes is gone and I’m sorry I can’t help you, give you hope, but you have to try to learn living with it, if not for us, do it for him. Honor his name, honor your memories with him but I can’t see you like this. I can’t.”

Taking a deep breath, the smell and taste of your blood assaulting your senses, you relaxed in her brutal embrace just enough to shift your face in a blank mask and when she finally loosened her grip, you acted.

You threw an elbow backward and it landed right where you wanted it. Her arms completely let go of you and you spun on your heels, one hand grasping her throat and one foot behind her legs, you pushed  _ hard _ . Her eyes grew wide and her back hit the floor with a loud thud reverberating through the silent room. 

You squeezed.

And squeezed.

Until your knuckles turned white and the veins in your hands were pumping with blood.

But Natasha just smiled.

“That’s it,” She whispered, she grabbed your hands but she didn’t smack them away. Instead, she pulled them harder against her neck. “Does it feel good?”

White noises were ringing in your ears, your vision darkened with the need to just snap and break, kick and hit, scream and cry. You were too focused on draining the colors off of Natasha’s face you vaguely heard the muffled footsteps of Steve entering the ring with urgency. He laid his hands on top of yours and gently but firmly called your name to break you out of your trance.

The realisation of what was happening hit you sharply. With a horrified gasp, you drew in a breath and let Steve untangle your fingers one by one from Natasha’s throat.

“Jesus fucking Christ. What the hell, Nat?” You slumped down and sat on the floor, your eyes not leaving the angry marks in the shape of your fingers decorating Natasha’s skin around her neck.

She coughed a couple of times, wheezed for a full minute until she could speak again.

“Look at me,” She said in a hoarse voice, “How did it feel?”

“Nat, I’m so so--”

“Shut up,” She propped herself on her elbows and rubbed her sensitive throat. “Answer my question. Did it feel good?”

Reluctantly, you nodded.

“What did you see when you strangled me?”

Steve gave a pained noise at that.

“Nothing.” You said, “Absolutely nothing. I just-- I wanted to do it, all the things you said…”

“What about them?” She cleared her throat, her voice still thin and groggy.

“They were all true. I knew, all this, I knew-- I  _ know _ . Doesn’t make it any less painful but I have to let go, do I?”

“No, that’s not what I was trying to teach you here. Don’t get over it, don’t try to forget, hold onto it as tightly as you can but face it, don’t hide. But you have to learn to control it, all this anger, Y/N… It’s not you. When you let go before, it felt good for a time and now, how do you feel?”

“Disgusted with myself.”

“Does it remind you of something?” She asked lightly and all the pieces clicked together.

Your fight with Tony, your fight with Steve, your personal attack against the entire world. They didn’t deserve to be the recipient of your anger. Natasha proved it by launching this impromptu attack.

“How does it feel to be attacked for no reason?” She continued and you bowed your head in shame.

“I’m not proud of it, okay? I do realise it’s wrong, and I’m sorry if I hurt anyone.” You looked up at Steve. “It wasn’t my intention.”

“It’s not to me you need to say that.” He smiled sadly. 

Your shoulders slumped in defeat but Steve was right, there was somebody else you needed to apologize to and you hadn’t heard about him in the last four months. Your heart ached at the idea of seeing Tony again.

“Can I come home?”

Steve perked up and his entire face lit up at your words but in the next second, a bittersweet expression crossed his features. 

“He’s not going to allow it without a fight. He wants you home just as much as I do but… he’s Tony. He always finds a way to make things more difficult.” 

“Well, I could use a buffer this time.” You said, giving him a pointed look.

“I think you gave me just the idea.” Steve answered ominously and didn’t offer any further explanations. 

* * *

It took nearly an entire week and a lot of convincing to get Tony to agree to come to the support group but the sweet talks and motivational speeches weren’t Steve’s best talents for nothing.

If he caught you in his web before, he could get Tony as well. He could get anyone to come if Steve had his mind set to it. 

So one moody, rainy September afternoon, Tony crossed the threshold of Steve’s makeshift therapy group center and realised he stepped right into a trap when your tense figure materialised into view.

“Steve, what’s this?” Tony asked sternly.

You could already tell this was going to be a difficult job to not only get Tony to sit his ass on a chair but to open both ears to listen to you.

“Tony--”

“No, Steve, this must be a joke. Did you just set me up? I can’t believe you lied in my face.”

“I didn’t lie to you, I just omitted to tell you one detail.”

“That’s the definition of  _ lying _ .” Tony replied stubbornly and Steve sighed.

As previously agreed, you remained silent and passive during the fight Steve warned you about and you watched the exchange, clutching your own clammy hands while trying not to let your leg bounce anxiously.

“Sit down, please.”

“What’s she doing here? You planned it, didn’t you? Of course you did, you knew I wouldn’t have come. I didn’t want to come in the first place, I knew it smelled fishy, you never asked me to be here before--”

“Tony, please, sit!”

“Fine, but I’m not talking to her!”

Steve gave him a very clear disapproving look and Tony noisily dragged a chair from the wall to the center of the room, straddling the chair with the backrest at his front, he clasped his hands on top of it and waited. 

There was a pregnant pause, the three of you silently staring at each other, your thoughts too loud inside your skull.

Steve cleared his throat and Tony and you both reacted at the sound, bracing yourself for the carnage of emotions that was about to take place.

But bracing for impact wasn’t what you wanted or wished for, you weren’t here to witness any kind of slaughter today, you came with a peace offering and a deal.

“Before we begin, do any of you wish to say something?”

Tony let out a tiny snort and Steve’s jaw twitched in irritation, but he stayed quiet.

“Alright, you don’t want to talk? I’m gonna do the talking.” You said. 

_ I’m going to do the talking, then. _

You remembered that moment all too well, the slight rustling noise outside the restroom stall, Tony calming you down in that department store after your panic attack, all those things he had admitted and said to you without stuttering, drinking his words.

Now you had doubted each of them, feeling like the words held no compassion or truth behind them anymore. Just hollow declarations and air from Tony’s mouth.

“I want to do a role reversal.” You said and both Steve’s and Tony’s chair squeaked.

“No.” Tony answered flatly.

“It wasn’t a question.” You told him firmly. “It’s not entirely fair to take my case solely to prove my point and talk on behalf of the people that are now gone, so, Rhodey is your best friend, right? Right. Let’s pretend you are Steve, Rhodey is Bucky and I am some nameless person in the grand scheme of things--”

“I hate this already.” Tony muttered and you pointedly ignored him.

“I want you to imagine what it feels like to know that Rhodey’s been taken prisoner during one of his missions. God, you’d know about that yourself, Tony. And just like you in Afghanistan, he’s being tortured and forced to do things he doesn’t want to do. Except Rhodey doesn’t have the chance to escape like you did, you had one small, lucky opportunity to free yourself and you took it because they were morons and underestimated you. But let’s say Rhodey doesn’t get the same chance and he is locked up and tortured and abused in all kinds of ways for years,  _ decades _ . How do you react, Tony?”

You speak slowly, in the most detached and almost clinical way possible to not let the personal side of the story affect you. 

Silence.

“Okay,” You nod patiently. “Next thing you know, shit hit the fan and everybody tries to take him away or kill him when finally you have him back. Your best friend, your Rhodey, he’s damaged and traumatised, he needs somebody he can trust because he doesn’t trust himself. He has not done a single thing he’s proud of in the past seventy years and suddenly he’s thrust into a world he doesn’t know, everything changed but there’s that one person he recognises in this shit show, that one person he knows he can lean on for the first time in a long time. You.”

Silence.

“You have to fight tooth and nail to get him back, the government most of all but Rhodey slowly makes a place for himself in this new world. He’s at his best friend’s side, got a team of people he can trust and for the first time in forever, a future he can decide.”

Silence.

You sighed.

“Rhodey starts to open up and be normal again even though it’s still dark in here,” You pointed a finger against your temple, “But he keeps going. And eventually, Rhodey becomes stable. You are happy he’s happy even if he decides to retire indefinitely because he found love again. You’re surprised but you let him because he hasn’t made a single decision for himself in decades and as I said, you’re happy if he’s happy.” Glancing at Steve, you found him intently looking at his feet, “Rhodey has been your friend since college, right? That’s not really different than Steve and Bucky there. Rhodey has been injured in battle, you helped him.”

Silence.

You decided it was time to finally broach the dreaded topic.

“But it happens Rhodey had been forced to do things he would take back in a heartbeat, probably even lay in his own life in exchange for the people he grudgingly killed. While he was gone, thinking he was dead you bonded with new people, let’s say Bruce is you now. Rhodey has been taken out of cryo for the hundredth time, been wiped of his memories for the hundredth time, they tell him to do something and Rhodey obeys because he’s been made to be malleable and pliable otherwise he will suffer the consequences of misbehaving. Rhodey hasn’t been himself for a long time, he doesn’t know who he was and who he is, he knows only the present. Not the past, certainly not the future, his whole world is revolving around this mission, killing Bruce's parents because they're a liability, and because there’s nothing else that is required of him until the next time they need him. He’s just a machine, a weapon, Rhodey lives to kill, he has no idea who these people are, they’re just names with faces that come from a file. He doesn’t belong, Rhodey is just a pawn, he--”

“Enough!” Tony blurted out. “Stop, I get it! Jesus fucking Christ, enough.”

Steve’s head snapped up and you could see unshed tears brimming his eyes while he looked at Tony. 

“What does it feel like, Tony?” Natasha’s own words tasted like satisfaction on your tongue and you saw Tony fidgeting in his seat. There was no venom in your voice, no wicked game hidden beneath your words, only the need to put an end to what had been torturing and ruining your friendship with Tony for years.

He violently shook his head, burying his face in his hands.

“You know what hurts the most in all this? To realise that you worked side by side for years with Alexander Pierce without knowing he orchestrated the whole thing in the shadows. You’ve shaken the very hand of the man that had your parents’ blood on it.”

Tony leaped on his feet and stood away from you and Steve. He kept his face hidden from the two of you but the rapid rise and fall of his chest was indication enough of the overwhelming response your carefully crafted plan elicited. 

“I’m sorry, Tony, for all the pain it caused you. And for all the hurt  _ I  _ caused by rubbing salt in the wound inadvertently, I wish we handled it differently but we can’t change it. I’m trying to be better, just as Bucky tried to be better than what they compelled him to be without his consent. But I have my own freewill, I can’t always blame it on others, I will take responsibility for the things I said to you not only four months ago but all the way back to Siberia and that night at the compound when Carol brought you back.”

You rose from your chair and plucked something out of your bag before heading where Tony was standing, still motionless and silent. You poked the rectangular object gently in Tony’s ribs to catch his attention and he reluctantly let his hands fall from his face. You ignored the wetness there for his sake as you patiently waited for Tony to take what you were handing him.

“I hate being handed things.”

“Just fucking take it, Tony.” You said with an internal roll of your eyes and pushed it urgently against him.

Tony sniffled and grabbed the thing from your hands, snatching the craft paper covering it. He froze and stiffened when the frame revealed the picture of him with Peter by his side you discovered in that box Natasha once gave you. He held the frame with infinitely more delicacy when he brought it closer to his eyes for inspection. 

This time, Tony didn’t try to stifle the sob that slid from his lips, understanding the wordless apology from you. 

Which he accepted in the form of a bone-crushing hug.

Tony squeezed you without a single care for the well-being of your lungs or ribcage and you wrapped your arms around his waist, it wasn’t a common occurrence to witness Tony’s tears and, thinking back, you never saw him cry until today. But just as Steve’s behavior during that week after Thanos snapped his fingers, it wasn’t something you would comment upon. You would have done it a few years ago, with a dash of humor and a pinch of sarcasm to lighten the mood but not today. Today the mood needed to be felt, as harsh and cold as the slap in your face was, it was necessary to face how heavy and hard it had been for everyone if you wanted to undergo growth together and fix it once for all. 

In Tony’s tight embrace, you managed to turn your face to see Steve longing to join the hug so you smiled and jerked your head in a nod to bring him to you. Steve didn’t need to be told twice and his long arms enveloped both you and Tony easily. Your forehead found the crook of Tony’s neck and Tony’s temple rested against Steve’s collarbone. The contented sigh you all shared was one of relief as weight was lifted from your shoulders. 

There was a space in your heart that couldn’t be filled, this void had Bucky’s name carved into it but the two men in your arms put effort in helping you make it feel less enormous. Steve himself was large enough to fill it all by himself, that was why they needed to take turns and allow Tony’s ego to fit there as well. 

Three broken persons could make one whole family. It was a lot of work, it had its ups and downs but in the end, it was worth it.


	4. 2021: Depression

It was too early to deal with Tony barging in the living room, disturbing your moment of peace post-sleep with Alpine, Tony wearing sleep pants (and nothing else) and running with a smirk you recognised all too well.

“Don’t tell him I’m here.” He whispered and slipped in the small opening between the couch and the wall.

As if on cue, Steve’s voice boomed from the kitchen yelling Tony’s name followed by muffled curses.

It was  _ way  _ too early.

Steve’s barefoot footsteps echoed in the house before his quest drove him where you were and where Tony absolutely wasn’t.

Your lips curled in a pleasant and innocent smile but when Steve narrowed his eyes at you in response, you knew you were in so much trouble for covering for Tony.

“Hey, what’s up, Steve? Slept well?”

“Just tell me where he is.” He said and raised what appeared to be the toaster in his hands.

Cocking a brow, you lazily stroked Alpine’s fur and forced a yawn out. “Why? What’s your beef with him?”

“He stole the toaster,  _ my  _ toaster and modified it to imprint his face on the slices!” A perfect burn in the shape of the Iron Man helmet on a piece of bread was shown as a piece of evidence.

The laughter inside of you threatened to break loose so you steeled yourself and carefully composed your face in a neutral mask.

“What’s wrong with eating your boyfriend out every morning?”

The utter betrayal on Steve’s face was too much to handle and you burst out laughing, Tony inevitably lost his entire shit at your joke and it gave away his location.

A hand appeared above the backrest of the sofa and you high-fived it without remorses, Steve watching the gesture with resignation and with a twitch in his cheek. He silently put down the toaster on the coffee table and left the room.

After a beat, he spoke up from the hallway, “FRIDAY? Code blue. Disable the coffee machine.”

Tony’s giggles died in his throat and instantly jumped out of his hidden spot, running after Steve.

And so today could finally start. Game on.

They could be two playing this game while you comfortably stayed in the safety of your cocoon, counting the points.

Tony was, of course, winning so far, leading with seventeen points whereas Steve was hot on his heels with fifteen. Routine was a strange thing when you lived with a super-soldier that was thirty-five year old but technically a hundred and a maniac that celebrated his fifty-first birthday mere days ago. 

Thank God you had to see Natasha today for your weekly appointment. Tony had made it a habit to call it a “girls day” but you had kept your promise about not playing dead anymore and see her more regularly. This was how you came to have a few hours of training with her scheduled each week and even sometimes spent the night there. Your mind stayed sharp and your body needed the same treatment, refusing to let gloom turn your muscles and reflexes to marshmallow. And Tony wasn’t entirely wrong, the time spent with Natasha had become somewhat sacred and precious, and it was good to get out of the house and not depend solely on Tony and Steve all the time. The separation brought you together closer, the three of you, and so you allowed them time for themselves together while you treated yourself to the joy of being half-beaten up by Natasha in the meantime. 

It felt good, you welcomed the soreness each time. The ache burning pleasantly in your body every wednesday. 

There was also usually a glass of wine and soft pyjama pants involved after, which would be foolish to refuse. 

Today, after the boys’ shenanigans at the crack of dawn, you arrived at the compound earlier, wanting to escape the confine of your role as referee and eager to join Natasha’s company. Oddly, your bike wasn’t the only thing parked there. You entered the yard and eyed the humongous spaceship stationed next to the now ridiculous size of the Harley Davidson. Strange, Natasha didn’t mention a broader party present at the compound. 

You pushed in a code in the digital pad and let it scan your fingerprints, a bright green light highlighted your name in bold letters and the beep of the door indicated it was open and free to come inside. 

“Nat?” You called out and followed the sound of chatter down the numerous rooms of the place until you found who it belonged to.

Rhodey sat on the kitchen counter, Rocket standing at his side on the countertop as well (he still wasn’t tall enough to reach Rhodey’s face even when he was at his full height while Rhodey was sitting down) and Nebula leaned with crossed arms against the fridge. 

“Oh, hey, didn’t know you were coming.” You said cheerfully and gave them a nod and a smile each.

Nebula answered your nod with one of her own and Rhodey slid from the counter to you.

“How long has it been, Y/N?” Rhodey said and wrapped you in a quick hug which you enthusiastically returned.

“Ask Tony, he keeps track of that sort of thing. Will tell you how many minutes exactly if you ask him.” 

Rhodey scoffed, “He doesn’t appreciate our facetimes? Ain’t he the tech guy by excellence.”

“Should have seen him when Happy showed up, he was  _ clingy _ .” 

“Disgusting.”

“Right? That’s what I thought too.”

You shared a laugh and shifted your attention to Rocket still standing on the countertop.

“Did you grow an inch since I last saw you or are my eyes playing tricks, Rocket?” You said with a smirk.

“Don’t throw the first stone, or whatever the saying here is. I have knives too.” He replied and it took you a second to remember the last time you saw him was in the communal room and aimed a knife at Tony’s chest. 

“Mine are cooler, though.” 

“How much for the bunch of them?”

“Not for sale.”

“I heard that before.” 

Shaking your head fondly, you glanced at the silent presence of the blue woman standing tall to your right. She didn’t offer any quips or jabs and you accepted the fact without remarks. Nebula wasn’t an open book, in the few times you two had met, she’d always been hard to read. That intrigued you as much as it put you off. 

“Any of you know where Nat is?” You asked.

“Putting up safety locks everywhere while you will be gone probably,” Rocket retorted and snorted at his own joke.

You watched him with curious eyes, racking your brain to remember if anything was planned on your agenda with Natasha that day. You couldn’t put a finger on anything known to you and when you opened your mouth to ask what exactly Rocket meant by that, Natasha showed up in the kitchen.

“Oh, good. You’re here.” She said.

“Are we going somewhere?” 

Natasha threw a furious glance at the raccoon and Rocket raised his arms in surrender. 

“Didn’t say anything, I was just makin’ conversation.” 

“I thought of doing something different today,” Natasha said, ignoring Rocket and focusing on you instead. 

There was an edge in her voice you couldn’t really decipher. It was almost like she was nervous and was about to show you something she apprehended your reaction to. If Natasha was anxious about somebody’s reaction it suggested that the thing in question meant a great deal to her. Natasha was a private person in many ways, that much wasn’t breaking news to you and you never pushed, that wasn’t your place to do so, but a tiny part of you was beyond excited to know something about her that you weren’t previously aware of. This occurred rarely and you took it as a good omen.

You wordlessly acknowledged her statement and fell into step beside her, she exited the compound and unlocked her car, sitting herself in the driver’s seat. You easily slid next to her in the passenger side and she turned on the engine before taking off to your unknown location.

* * *

When you thought Natasha was going to show you somewhere she considered special, you thought of a coffee shop or maybe a park where she secretly liked to take a stroll to unwind, an intimate place she wanted to share with a friend. 

Instead, she drove relentlessly for four hours until you saw a sign indicating you had just entered Washington DC.

What you didn’t expect was to enter an orphanage and a woman dressed to the nines asking ‘Miss Romanoff’ if she had a moment to sign a few documents.

“Nat? Where are we?” You whispered and watched your surroundings closely. You saw Natasha leading you to a remote area of the building, taking a few intricate corridors until she reached a plain white door, pushing it open to reveal a desk office.

It wasn’t fancy but it wasn’t cold either, the room was rather large with a desk, a chair, a computer and even a place in the corner with a sofa and plants scattered around. 

“This is my office,” She said, walking in the room, “I’ve been overseeing this place for almost a year now.”

Your jaw dropped and you stood there, numbly looking at her while the gears in your head were cranking fast.

“One quarter of all children have no parents after what happened. Assuming you started with two, that’s a lot of global orphans, the numbers are staggering. This led to that and now…”

“You’re in charge of an orphanage?”

She smiled, “I’m in charge of an orphanage.”

“That’s an unexpected development,” You still stared at the room around you and something caught your eyes to your left.

The wall. 

To closer inspection, it wasn't wallpaper. No, approaching at a slow pace to take it all in, you noticed it was, in fact, drawings. Hundreds of them of different shapes and sizes, the childish and colorful strokes reflecting the best of Natasha now caught on paper. It would take you a while to get through each of them, you wouldn’t know where to begin by the astonishing amount of drawings carefully hung on the wall.

“All this time and you didn’t say a thing,” You said as a matter of fact, not unkindly but actually amazed at the work it must have been.  _ Must be. _ “This sounds overwhelming but in a good way.”

“That’s why I brought you here, actually.” 

You tore your eyes from a sketch of a stick figure with the familiar fiery color haphazardly painted on top of its head made by one five year old named “Gracie” to turn to Natasha.

“The Black Widow needs my help?” You said half-serious and half-jokingly. You let it open to interpretation whether Natasha herself was joking… or not.

“This place is overpopulated as you can imagine and my volunteers are running out thin. I need people I can trust to help me manage it. Will you help me and be my second in command?”

“Of all people, you want me to be your right hand man, well,  _ woman _ ?” 

“I trust you. Always have. You could fit nicely here, but I'd understand if you refused.” Her eyes quickly peered down at your stomach and you understood the meaning behind her words. 

“Oh, Nat… I’d be honored.” You said and you both shared a smile, brushing off the phantom pain inside your belly you once felt all those years ago. This moment was about celebrating lives, not a death.

“Let me show you around, then.” She said and by the expression of her face, this was Natasha’s definition of beaming.

The mood didn’t reflect what it let you imagine upon entering the building. The outside looked rather stern and positively bland but once inside, the warmth emanating enveloped you the same way a home would. Natasha had worked hard to not let it become what she once used to know.

She took the time to explain every facility and introduced every person you encountered by name. The main building housed administrative offices, a huge kitchen and a dining room that could hold all the kids. Residential cottages were spread around it with a playground, a basketball court and lots of running space. The day was warm, June’s heat sent all the kids to play outside and as you walked around the place, you saw boys playing basketball, some girl was skipping across the lawn and another was riding by on a scooter. 

The campus sprawled over a hundred acres amounting to a small farm with vegetables, orchards and twelve big greenhouses, which were abloom with all sorts of flowers.

“The farming is a source of revenue for the orphanage, what they produce they sell at the local farmers’ market,” Natasha said and you whistled lowly, noticing the swimming pool not far from where you were standing. “People buy a season subscription for fresh products. It’s also a source for the children to learn farming skills and to earn pocket money by working on the farm.”

“Today you need to find a way to produce to self-sustain. It’s not like before, the market changed, and you have to adapt or you’ll starve.” You added and Natasha nodded thoughtfully.

There was also school space on the grounds, where some of the kids were home-schooled. Most, however, fanned out to public and private schools around town, whichever seemed to be the best match. There was an abundance of supplemental opportunities and support -- camping and fishing trips, service trips, tutors, therapists… 

From what you knew about orphanages, or what tabloids and old stories from decades ago, clichés related from supernatural books to horror movies made you think everything in their homes seemed industrial-sized, organized to ladle out life and love in well-managed, huge portions. That the rooms were overcrowded and babies were piling up, crying in a neglected environment. That there were fights everyday among the orphans and some were sick to a point of being malnourished. 

And the living spaces here were similarly expansive, and stretched out along long hallways with double bedrooms, but the bucolic, healthy images of this place were the opposite of the lies you’ve been fed your whole life.

The rooms here were decorated as individually as new college freshmen did, and bathrooms were connecting pairs of bedrooms. The laundry room had double sets of washers and dryers; in some houses, the kids who were old enough to manage each had a day to wash their own clothes.

“Many sibling-groups arrived at first, and when logistics worked, they even got to live together in the same cottage.” Natasha pointed to a one-story cottage next to the playground, “This one has five siblings.”

“Do they occupy the cottage all by themselves?” 

“We managed to give them one of the smallest houses so they could be regrouped and live as normally from their old routine as before. They’re coping much better together than separated.” She nodded in its direction, “Come, I’d like you to meet one of them, you’ll see why.”

Circling the basketball court and crossing the playground, you reached the cottage and stepped on the porch. Natasha knocked swiftly and a tall boy with dark eyes and bright hair answered a second after. She bumped her fist on the teenager’s shoulder and exchanged greetings as he let you in. This seemed so normal and for a solid moment, you wouldn’t have guessed it was all an orphanage, seeing the mailbox and the shoes scattered at the door. It was a home through and through. 

“Guys, Romanoff’s here!” He yelled.

Natasha tsked, “Hey, how many times do I have to tell you it’s ‘Natasha’?”

“You don’t want me to call you Black Widow either, we have to find a compromise.”

“You’re a smartass, Jordan. You know that?”

The boy -- Jordan, snorted and when he finally seemed to realize who you were, standing by Natasha’s side, his eyes widened slightly and he was about to say something when he was cut short by loud and hasty footsteps heading toward you. 

A panoply of blonde-haired kids came to a halt upon seeing the two of you in the hall and you smiled, seeing their delighted faces and how one covered her mouth when she glanced back and forth between you and Natasha. They were used to her presence, but the spontaneous arrival of another Avenger in their home had triggered a chain of high-pitched squeals and dumbfounded gasps. 

“That little guy is Alex,” Natasha picked up the smaller sibling and placed the little boy sideways on her hip. “He’s three, he was just a baby when he arrived.”

“You met Jordan already, and here you have Rosie, Ashley and… where’s--”

“She’s in her room. Said she was reading.” Ashley told you. 

“Let’s pay her a visit, then.” 

Following Natasha in a hallway that led to a door left ajar, she peeked her head inside and whispered something you couldn’t hear. She urged you to make your way in the room and you hesitantly agreed, setting foot inside the pink and purple room with butterflies covering the walls in abundance.

There, sitting propped against a messily arranged pile of pillows, laid a girl with a book open on her lap. She didn’t look up right away, if anything, she gave the impression that she was completely indifferent about your presence, too engrossed in the tale that fully occupied her mind at the moment.

She brought forward her right hand to turn the page and that was when you caught sight of it-- the prosthetic arm strapped to her shoulder.

She closed the book and straightened, “Done! Sorry, I  _ really  _ needed to know how the chapter ended--” She stopped in her tracks and the two of you stared at each other for a full minute before either of you could form a sentence.

So you did it for her, “May I sit down?”

“I don’t have a chair but you can sit here,” She crossed her legs under her covers and left you enough space on the twin bed to sit.

Sitting at the edge of the bed, you forced yourself to stop ogling the arm, “What’s your name?”

“Annie,” She said.

“Nice to meet you, Annie. I’m Y/N.” 

“I kind of put that together.” She replied and you chuckled.

“Would it be wrong of me to say what a nice arm you’ve got? I’m sorry if it offends you.”

“It’s okay.” She shrugged and outstretched her hand to you, “Should we shake hands?”

You accepted the offer and grabbed her hand, shaking it a couple of times. The composites of the arm were smooth and surprisingly light in your hold, she didn’t appear unphased by all the staring on your part but you still mentally slapped yourself. 

“You can ask, if you want. Everybody does.”

“I don’t want to bother you with it,” You said, “But what I’d like to know is how old you are, though.”

“I’m ten.”

“It’s a great age, I miss being ten years old.” _ It was easier back then _ , you left unsaid for a reason. This would be insensitive of you to say such a thing when Annie’s life was wildly different than yours at the same age. But she didn’t pick up your trail and looked at you with amusement. 

"Are the Avengers making house calls now?" 

"Don't tell anyone but Natasha needs my help to look after you guys. Superheroes do need a hand from time to time." 

Annie smirked, leaning forward. “Does that make me an Avenger? I don’t have a metal arm like Bucky but hey, close enough.” 

She wiggled her fingers and you stared back in disbelief, taken aback from her straightforwardness.

“When I lost my arm in the accident, the doctor said even the Avengers had disabled people in the team. I even got to keep the picture,” She pointed her finger to her desk where various pictures of what you guessed were of friends and family, and one stuck out from the lot. A picture of Bucky taken from God knew where, the shot was taken to specifically highlight the bright metal of his left arm, the red star standing out clearly right in the middle.

A soft smile tugged on your lips and you wished so hard Bucky, wherever he was, could be able to hear and see this. Him, who had always been too terrified to approach those Wakandan kids, him who admitted he didn’t receive many fan mails from children, and that in the end, he had succeeded in convincing himself kids hated him or were afraid of him without even checking the facts beforehand. 

Being in Annie’s company right now just proved they just didn’t know him well enough. They loved the arm, you had told him all those years ago that nowadays it wouldn’t be that singular, but Bucky always shied away from the idea of children being actually and genuinely interested in the thing. And in him.

It even helped some of them to cope with losing a limb and still be normal and achieve great things in life.

“Can I see?” You asked.

“Sure.”

Standing from the bed, you approached her desk and leaned forward to avoid squinting at the photographs displayed on the board. You recognised her siblings you had met mere moments ago and a nameless woman and man popped up a few times in the pictures, easily guessing the link that bound them together with Annie by the color of their hair and the features they shared.

“He’s my favorite.” Annie said, almost jumping beside you. “Thor was my favorite before but he doesn’t have a metal arm, so he’s less cool.”

“Bucky’s my favorite, too.” You said.

She stifled her gasp with her flesh hand against her mouth. “It’s rude to have a favorite in your group of friends.” She whispered but her smirk was back on her face and something told you she wasn’t aware of the nature of the relationship you had with Bucky.

“Well, Bucky doesn’t really fall in the ‘friend’ category anyway.” You mirrored her smirk and fished for the torn polaroid picture in the breast pocket of your jacket that traveled everywhere with you wherever you went and handed it to her.

“Oh?” And a beat later, realization hit her. “ _ Oh _ . Oh, my God! I didn’t know. Really?! He was your boyfriend?”

“Husband.” You corrected her.

You didn’t know it was possible but her wide eyes grew ever larger. She glanced back and forth between the picture you had taken one rainy day in Wakanda, Bucky had been wearing a fluffy sweater that matched the color of Alpine’s fur in his arms and his dark hair was falling softly over his shoulders while he carried her around the house to stop her from fidgeting for not being able to access the garden in this weather, and you.

_ Click _ .

_ Another screeching. _

_ “Why are you so small yet so loud, hm?” Bucky said, booping his own nose against Alpine’s to shut her up.  _

_ The answer Bucky got was in the form of a lick on the tip of his nose. _

_ “That’s not fair, couldn’t you do that before I took the picture?” You whined, putting down the polaroid on the table. _

_ Bucky eyed suspiciously the blank picture you were waving in the air, waiting for the image to appear.  _

_ “Didn’t ask you to take a picture.” _

_ “Yeah, well, didn’t ask you to act all cute with Al.” _

_ At the sound of her own name, it triggered another meow from Alpine.  _

_ “Hey, what did I say with the screaming? You’re not going to see Stevie today. So,” Bucky leaned down again and planted a kiss on her head, “Stop that.” _

_ “Almost making me jealous, there.” You stepped toward your little family and stood on your tiptoes to hook your chin above Bucky’s right shoulder. One hand found its way to scratch Alpine behind her ears and the other you wrapped around Bucky’s middle. “You carry her like a baby.” You patted his belly for emphasis, “Congratulations, it’s a girl.” _

_ Bucky snickered. “She’s got some loud mouth on her to be mine.”  _

_ “Don’t talk about your daughter like this! Besides, she’s as hairy as you. And you’re both wearing white.” You said and dropped a kiss on his clothed shoulder. _

_ “Yeah? Then what qualities did she get from you, then?”  _

_ “Only having eyes for you.” You answered and hugged him tighter in both your arms. _

_ “That was very--” _

_ Using Bucky’s own technique, you pressed your lips against his even if the angle wasn’t all in your favor. You felt his lashes flutter against your cheeks as he closed his eyes in the kiss and you enjoyed the sweet taste of victory. The moment you deepened the kiss, something soft tickled the side of your face. You broke apart from Bucky and was met with Alpine’s paw barely an inch from your eyes.  _

_ “Look who’s jealous now, you little snowball.” You gently hit her pink nose with the photograph in your hand and realized the colors had finally been transferred to the paper.  _

_ “Oh, look,” You raised it to eye-level and a fond smile curled on Bucky’s lips.  _

_ You detached yourself from the very warm man in your arms and wrote a single word behind the polaroid, accompanied by today’s date before slipping it inside the journal for a future entry. _

Cradling the picture safely in your hands from Annie’s awed reverence after giving it back, you turned it to read the words you had once written there,

_ Family. _ _   
_ _ Dec. 4th, ‘17 _

Sitting at the appointed desk in Natasha’s office (technically your office too, but the feeling still alien to you to claim it as yours for now) months later, Annie’s words hadn’t left your mind since your conversation the day you met. 

Running the place had been a challenge you had welcomed but underestimated, you had been able to see the little girl only when you rushed from one appointment to the other and she had enthusiastically waved hello from afar, sometimes she was reading on a bench, sometimes she was at the playground with her younger siblings. Today, you had run into her during lunch time at the canteen. She had insisted to shake your hand again and you obliged her, her optimistic behavior concerning her prosthetic arm remained unmatched.

It pleased you to see she wasn’t afraid and rather very proud of it. So that made you wonder for days on end about the said ‘accident’ she had mentioned all those weeks ago.

You pushed away the permission slips from view and rolled around in your chair to face Natasha’s desk. She was furiously typing something on her laptop with her brows furrowed and your guilt at breaking her focus only lasted three seconds before speaking up.

“Hey, Nat.”

More typing.

“Natasha.”

A sigh and a few deleted entries.

“Auntie Nat.”

“Please tell me you have a good reason to deliberately disturb my report.” She scowled.

“Which kid you writing about?”

“Keith.”

“This kid should be in a prison, not an orphanage.”

“He just stole stuff, Y/N.”

“A whole identity for a fake ID,  _ Natasha _ . At sixteen!” You picked up your stress-pen reliever and chewed the already damaged end.

“That’s why we’re transferring him.” She shut her laptop and ran a hand in her hair. “One day you’re gonna break that thing and you’ll get ink everywhere on your face. What did you want?”

“Oh, um, I was just thinking about something that had been nagging at me for a while. Thought you might have some answers. Because, well, you always do.”

She raised a brow and crossed her arms, leaning backward in her chair, looking at you with her curiosity piked. “What thing?”

“It’s about Annie. She said she was in an accident when we talked the day we met. Didn’t want to press the issue but I haven’t stopped thinking about it.” You put down the pen. “What happened?”

“She almost died when she was seven. Her father was driving the car and her mother was in the passenger’s seat the day they vanished.” Natasha’s face hardened slightly and she dropped her hands in her lap, “Annie was in the backseat. The bones were so crushed in her arm from the shock of the accident that they had to amputate the whole limb. She was very, very lucky as well as unlucky that day.”

“What about the prosthetic arm?”

“3D printed.” A small, guarded smile returned on her face. “I saw her running around with a red star painted on it a couple of times.”

“She did show me the photograph she’s got hanging on her wall. Figured that’s why you wanted me to meet her so badly.”

You and Natasha shared a laugh and your phone pinging drew your attention away from her.

_ >> Ur carriage awaits u, m’lady _

“Tony’s here, gotta go.” You got up from your chair and grabbed your bag, tossing your phone inside. “You sure you don’t want to spend the weekend with us? I’m sure Steve would be delighted to prepare the guest bedroom for you.”

“Pass. Thank you, though.” She said and you hugged her goodbye. “Say hello to those heathens and maybe next time, I’ll come. I don’t make any promises.”

“Fair enough. Just know you’re welcome anytime. Alpine would love to meet you.”

“Bring her here one day. The kids would appreciate it, and she would enjoy the attention from what you’ve been telling me about her.” 

“That could be a deal.” You wrapped yourself in your thick winter coat and headed out. Before you stepped out of the office, you stopped in your tracks. “Don’t bury yourself in work, Nat. Take a breather, I’m here now.”

“My breathers were kicking your ass against the gym mat. I kinda miss those days.” She admitted.

“We didn’t need to let them go entirely. I’m sure we could work something out.” You said and ignored the three consecutive pings of your phone undoubtedly coming from an impatient Tony. “Tell you what, once I’m back on Monday, we’ll schedule that, okay? We need some time for ourselves, too. Even if we love those kids.”

“You sound like Steve, get out.” She chuckled and you gave her a mocking salute before making your way out to the gates. 

Tony was leaning against his car, his legs crossed at his ankles and phone in hand, ever so painting the definition itself of a patient man waiting for you (minus the half dozen of texts he sent while you walked out the maze of hallways before you finally reached the front doors).

“Where’s the carriage you talked about? I only see a big, ugly pumpkin.” You shouted from the door.

“You’re very funny, you know that?” He shot back, straightening from his orange Audi R8.

Giggling quietly to yourself, the moment you reached the front gates, you heard the doors behind you slam open and hurried footsteps trailed after you, a familiar voice screaming your name. 

“Annie? What are you doing here, you know you’re not allowed here.” 

How Annie sidestepped security protocols and had sneaked outside of the building was beyond you, but she didn't seem to tone down her excitement at the sight of your displeasure. 

"I wanted to give you this!" She panted slightly from her little illegal marathon. 

Grabbing the white piece of paper, you turned it upside down to get a proper look at what was drawn on it. 

"Is that--" 

"Alpine? Yes!" She said at a volume too high for your own ears, absolutely delighted with her masterpiece. 

You folded the childish sketch of Alpine neatly and carefully placed it inside your bag, nestling it between pages of your journal for safekeeping. 

"Thank you, Annie. I can't wait to hang it in my office." And to start your own wallpaper made of drawings on your side of the office. "I will bring you a little something in exchange, but that will need to stay between us. Deal?" 

She eagerly bobbed her head in a series of nods and her eyes landed on Tony's figure, who had been intently watching the whole interaction. 

"Oh, hey Mister Stark." She turned back to you only to do a double check in Tony's direction, "Hey, Mister Stark! Wow, I can't believe this is happening."

"Hi, kid. What's your name?" 

"Anne. But call me Annie." The gates separating them didn't prevent her from drawing out her hand to him and Tony snorted audibly, accepting the handshake. 

"What's the arm made of?" He, of course, asked. 

"I dunno. It came from a 3D machine or whatever, I don't remember." She knocked on her forearm, "Probably plastic?" 

"We don't have time for this. Get back inside, you rascal, before I call Captain Rogers, and you don't want him to scold you, trust me."

Annie made a beeline for the front doors and you saw her fishing out a badge she had hidden in her pocket. 

"And give Mister Morton his badge back!" You yelled and she only waved back at the two of you. 

"Don't laugh," You said, crossing the gates and locking it behind you, "She's very light-fingered that child, and too clever for her own good."

Tony raised his arms in surrender but the edges of his lips were stretched too wide for someone begging for forgiveness. 

"I like her arm. Do you know what it is made of?" He asked. 

"Aren't you the expert?" 

"I think she was right. It does look like plastic. Not the cheap kind but plastic nonetheless and polypropylene for the sockets. Titanium and aluminum for the screws." Tony said and scratched his stubble, already deep in thoughts. 

"All I know is that a traditional prosthetic can be expensive and often leaves those in need worried about the cost. 3D printing provides an affordable alternative. It's a low-cost production method, they offer many a practical alternative to bionic hands and it does its job."

Tony eyed you from above his glasses, both brows raised. 

"What? I did my research." 

"You sure did, Cinderella. Hop in."

Tony opened the passenger's door with an exaggerated bow of his head and you rolled your eyes, "Thanks, Fairy Godmother."

You shared a comfortable silence for a while, content enough to drive and observe the scenery outside. You were eager to come home, at first it worked well to work during the week and come home each weekend but it took a toll on you to drive eight hours there and back again. So, two months ago you had decided to stay in DC for an undetermined stay while you found the right balance.

Natasha had offered you to stay with her and you had accepted. She had been a nice host and you two had gotten along well in her two bedroom apartment, but the three years spent living with two hot-headed and stubborn men left an empty space in your heart in the span of a few weeks only. 

And you missed your Alpine. You hoped you hadn’t caused any more damages to the stress of having Bucky taken away from her, resulting in thinking you had abandoned her as well.

‘Codependent’ was maybe a strong word for what you felt regarding your life shared with Tony and Steve, but you  _ had  _ heavily relied on them for the first years until you could find your own equilibrium. It was made of bargains, of lessons learned and growth (with a few broken plates along the way, both literally and figuratively, nothing stayed unscathed for too long in this household) but all that mattered now was the warm feeling spreading in your body once the cabin you called home came into view.

The door flew open the moment your feet touched the damp and familiar soil revealing a somewhat changed Steve. He pulled you in his arms and lifted you up with little effort.

“Easy, caveman!” You let out a chuckle, “Haven’t seen you with a beard that fluffy since we last lived in the compound.”

Steve put you down and the radiant smile he gave you warmed you up from the freezing winter breeze. 

The sound of the trunk being shut followed by a grunt broke your moment with Steve, you both looked at Tony to see him drag your suitcase along the dirt path to the porch.

“I’ll take care of that, you go inside and get comfortable. Welcome home!” Steve took the suitcase from Tony’s hold and you watched him disappear in the cabin, leaving a trail of mud behind him.

Tony wrapped an arm around your shoulders and tugged you alongside him. The house stayed exactly as you left it, except for a few new frames that decorated the shelves here and there. The one you spotted immediately was the picture of Tony and Peter safely tucked between bowls and glasses above the kitchen’s sink and to your surprise, one of Tony’s father stood beside it. 

Did Tony feel paternal toward Peter?

The parallel was too great to ignore but you didn’t comment on it. This was a topic for later and broaching the prospect of fatherhood needed to involve alcohol just for bravery’s sake.

“Did you reorganise my cabinets?” You asked while Tony was monitoring whatever was inside the oven. Looked and smelled like chicken to you and you wanted it to remain that way without Tony ruining it.

Tony huffed. “Steve told me to lower the temperature. I’m just doing what he instructed, I’m not going to blow up the kitchen.”

“You almost did it once, if I recall.”

“That turkey wasn’t from this world, I don’t know what provoked the fire!”

“That was the most memorable Thanksgiving I had in my life.” You scoffed, “Hey, paws off now!” You swatted Tony’s hand from the oven.

Speaking of paws…

“Alpine?!” You raised your voice, awaiting your cat’s greetings any second now, “Oh, my god. Is she mad at me?”

Steve came back downstairs, having put away your luggage safely in your room and the smile still plastered on his face never wavered as he kept looking at you with a thin-veiled joy as if you had returned from a decade-long trip. 

“Where did you hide my Alpine, Steve? Tony told me you were in the process of stealing her from me,”

Steve’s smile grew wider, “Not fair, she's the one following me around constantly."

You found her snuggled tightly between two cushions in the lounge, the white colour of the fabric doing a perfect job of hiding Alpine. You felt no regrets picking her up and stealing her warmth, she blinked the sleep of her eyes and when recognition settled, she let out a long meow. Tony grimaced again but chuckled at the little display of your reunion. 

"Hey, I noticed the pictures in the kitchen, that's a nice idea." 

"It was Steve's idea, actually," Tony said, sitting on the sofa. "can't have him hang his drawings on every surface available so we compromised."

"You come from a long way," You joked, Alpine already drifting back to dreamland in your arms. So much for a welcome home party. 

You roamed around the room, taking in the multiple pictures plastered in their own kind of frames when a black and white colored set of photographs caught your attention. They had their own place on the wall, showcased alongside yet another sketch made by Steve but this one seemed way more important and nostalgic for him to have it put there specifically. You recognised the monkey riding on an unicycle from your days living in the tower but you never thought about it more beyond the fact it was Steve's work from during the war. The drawing, beside it being of extreme sentimental value, could be worth thousands nowadays. 

You shamed yourself for the inappropriate thought about Steve's belonging and continued your tour of the lounge. You did a double-check on one of the faded and dog-eared monochrome picture and a soft "oh" escaped your lips when Bucky's face stared back at you, serious and professional next to his peers for the picture's sake. Safely discarding the frame from its spot, you brought it up for closer inspection and it was yet another treasure of the past you didn't know about. You were aware a lot of footages and other photographs might have been long lost during the course of the war, may it be by the hands of the enemy or because either blood or bullet damages but each time it ignited a spark of renewed excitement. Like discovering very old and embarrassing tokens of a loved one except for Bucky, it wasn't the typical trashed party or baby pictures, but official war pictures that would normally make it into school textbooks or military campaigns. 

"I like this one," You said, pointing to a photograph of Bucky and Steve side by side, both leaning against each other with matching goofy grins. As if they were pals hanging out and not fighting in the middle of a world war. "You both look so carefree and young."

Steve was sitting cross-legged on the floor, in the process of starting a fire while Tony was fidgeting with something on a hologram.

"PR wanted something different from the usual view of the trenches. Said something light-hearted could give the troops and people back home a 'new normal'. Obviously it was a lie, we weren't smiling a lot and it was… Weird to fake it." Steve grunted as he stood up, "So Dugan was behind the camera telling jokes so our smiles could be genuine and believable enough."

"Dirty jokes?" Tony suddenly asked from his spot on the couch, the hologram left aside altogether.

"Just jokes, Tony." Steve rolled his eyes.

"A hundred percent dirty jokes." You agreed with Tony. "I don't believe you either, Steve. Don't tell me you guys didn't crack one or two salacious jokes a day implying a woman's cleavage." 

"I'm going to check on the chicken." Steve said and both Tony and you shared a good-humoured laugh, watching Steve leave with visible heat rising on his cheeks.

"In your defense, I'm convinced Bucky was no innocent in the dirty jokes department. Him and Dugan could have been in a friendly competition of who had the dirtiest one in store." You said after Steve, smirking when Steve emerged back from the other room.

"Eh," he shrugged nonchalantly, "Falsworth wasn't far behind either, then. But Dugan sure was the one laughing the loudest each time."

You shook your head, shoulders shaking as you laughed.  _ Howling _ Commandos indeed.

"You'll need to tell me more, one day."

Alpine had started purring in her sleep, the smell of chicken and spices filled the room and you smiled to yourself.

"Dinner's ready, come on you two."

It was good to be home.

"Oh, by the way," You said between two sips of your wine, "We're organising a fundraiser next month. Natasha's attending and so am I."

"Need a plus one?" Tony asked, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. Different kind from yours but a nightcap was a nightcap after all. 

"Actually, I was thinking about Steve."

"Me? Why?" Steve said, knocking the rest of his beer in one large gulp. 

"Yes, why him?!" Tony furrowed his brows as he looked down at you, staying comfortably on the couch whereas Steve and you had decided to make a place for yourselves on the floor. 

Tony's voice held no actual venom as he kept lazily dragging his nails on Steve's scalp who was seated between Tony's knees. You were facing them on the other side on the coffee table, sat on a cushion and your back to the fireplace, the dying fire keeping your back warm and the alcohol in your body just as much. 

"No offense, Tony, but you would steal the spotlights and the reason why we're holding the fundraiser."

"And no offense but tell me why Steve wouldn't do exactly the same thing?" 

"Steve would actively avoid doing so. You would actively partake in doing so."

Steve cocked his head to the side in a half-nod, "She's not wrong."

"You can participate at the raising-money side of it, though." You snickered and Tony huffed.

"I have one condition."

"Oh boy."

Tony took his time swallowing the finger of whiskey left in his glass before answering. "Steve has to dress up for the occasion. And when I say 'dress up'..."

"You mean in full Captain America costume." You finished for him. 

And the thought wasn't actually a bad one, all things considered. This would still attract attention but it would push and encourage people to hand over generous donations for the show.

A fundraiser wasn't necessarily all things glammed up and a ladder to reach elitist people. 

Sometimes it was composed of rich, old people reduced to their inner child finally let free and of Steve's shield. 

That night produced a lot of pictures taken and of money happily spiled left and right alike, all that mattered was the audible gasps the sight of Steve Rogers sporting a full-beard dressed in a sharp tuxedo with his shield clutched to his hand elicited. 

_ Compromises _ . 

All it took was the idea of being in Captain America's shoes for a short moment, holding its most precious ornament (and weapon, people often tended to forget it had blood on it and wasn't only an accessory) for the time of a picture for people to giggle and basically throw money at yours and Natasha's face in exchange of being able to get to say hello to the Captain. 

Maybe Tony had been right, in the end. 

Maybe you were right all along. 

Steve wasn't seeking to be the animal in the zoo, yet he put on a brave face and did what he had done decades ago in front of a crowd: entertain. 

There was no speech to rehearse this time but Steve was an expert at impromptu inspirational speeches and handling crowds. 

And did it work wonders. 

Natasha had discreetly bumped her fist with yours that night and you gave Steve carte-blanche to choose his revenge in a form of apology. 

You'd never seen Steve smirk that mischievously before and you hoped you wouldn't get to regret your decision. 

He had yet to tell you what he had in mind, you grew restless as days went by and he stayed silent about it. You didn’t like being in Steve's debt, it was much harder to figure the man's intentions than you expected. In the end you had pushed it in the back of your mind, making a mental note that you owed Steve once again rather than trying to decipher what he would like.

* * *

That being done with, life resumed its course as winter grew colder and days were shorter.

"Tony, you're not designing an arm for Annie. How many times do I have to say it?" You cradled your phone in your gloved hand, your other one wrapping the scarf around your neck tighter to fight the freezing December's wind. 

" _ The things she would do with a lighter, more dynamic arm-- _ " 

" _ Sample synthesized, Boss. _ " Friday's muffled voice echoed on the other end of the line and you sighed.

"Tony!" You warned. "I'm not letting you anywhere near that child."

" _ Friday, mute _ ." Tony said to the traitorous AI and continued his pleading, " _ Just let me do a test run!" _

"Absolutely not, she isn't your lab rat and as I said, we have ample means to employ somebody full-time to do that now since the fundraiser, and help with our other disabled children."

" _ You're spoiling my fun _ ." 

"Annie isn't your fun."

" _ You know what I mean! _ " 

"Listen, just do another potato-gun and she'll be more than happy, okay?" You smirked and rounded the corner of the street, just a few feet away from the orphanage's gates. Natasha's flat wasn't far from the place and walking always helped clear your head and take a moment of your day to prepare for what was ahead. You were grateful for the short walk even in the terrible weather although relief was felt when the familiar building's entrance came into view.

" _ I should have never told you about that and-- Steve, stop laughing _ ."

"Do you have me on speaker?!" 

" _ Of course, I do. Who still physically holds a phone in this time and age? _ " 

Fishing for your badge in your bag, you were too busy balancing your phone between your shoulder and ear while rummaging through the different pockets that you almost collided with a man standing near you, a little too closely to your taste. 

"Need a hand?" The man said and the pronounced British accent startled you. He was a long way from home. 

"Tony, I'll call you back." You didn't wait for him to acknowledge your reply between his babbling and you hung up, narrowing your eyes at the man in front of you. "No, thank you. Do I know you from somewhere?" You froze slightly and dropped the badge to grab your switchblade instead discreetly in your bag. 

The movement didn’t go unnoticed and he chuckled.

“Do I look threatening to you? Blimey, that'd be a first. Here," He handed you a business card he got from the breast pocket of the inside of his jacket and you couldn't help noticing the fancy pattern of a foulard covering his neck. Which was hiding a few scars beneath it, you only could take a quick peek at the right side of his face before he closed his coat again, scars and posh clothes remaining out of view for the time being. 

You accepted the card and read his name, "Ellis Bartlett. Wait, you were at the fundraiser. I remember you, now."

"Nice to be remembered."

"You tried to have your hands on my plus one."

"Your plus one was the life of the party. Good strategy, bringing Captain Rogers with you."

"Sometimes you need a bit of grease to open uncooperative doors."

The fluffy caterpillar moustache stretched atop his upper lip as he grinned wildly. 

"So, you're a journalist working for The Times. That's a bit far from home, no?" 

"Worth a fine story, in my opinion." He raised his chin up, showing no remorse in the implications behind his words. 

"And what story would that be exactly, Mister Bartlett?"

"Yours." He said, "I'm not here to beat around the bush, you're the most interesting topic I came across since half the planet vanished and it's been three years now. People are starting to heal and they need something new to keep them going. What about somebody that looks like them, that they know about and who could help them regain hope again."

"That's Steve Rogers you might want to see, then." You scoffed and sniffled, the cold starting to freeze your face by the minute. 

"Captain Rogers isn't like any of us, we don't have what's flowing inside his American veins. You, on the other hand…" 

"Me, on the other hand, is pretty mundane and works in an office now." You glanced at the building standing tall and proud before you. "I'm sorry, Mister Bartlett, but I won't be your next headline."

You were about to slide your badge in the door's lock mechanism when Bartlett took a hold of your forearm, stopping you mid-slide. 

"I'm not looking for a headline. I'm not a tabloid or some blogger. I'm a person writing for people like myself, giving them a glimpse of what's on the other side of their boring, plain life. They haven't heard about The Avengers since they lost their first battle, they're missing you, missing that little  _ extraordinaire _ in their routine. I'm not asking for the Captain or Thor, I want them to actually identify with you and to feel special about it. That they're not alone in their struggles, that we all are and we'll be alright in the end."

You swallowed hard, stunned at his speech. Your badge laid forgotten in the palm of your hand, the constant buzzing in your bag the only feeling grounding you. 

"You sure are convincing." You said after getting your voice back. 

"Say that to my husband, he'll laugh and hand you a beer."

"If I said yes, what do I get in all this?" 

"What do you have to  _ lose _ ?" He asked, "It would be a recorded interview that I will post on The Times' website and then we'll pop open a bottle of champagne. I'm not a beer kind of bloke, sorry."

You slid your badge again in the slot and when the gate clicked open, the green dot blinking rapidly, you stepped inside and held the door open, "I have conditions if we're doing this. Come in."

As it turned out, you did end up doing it.

You rolled with it, did a background check on Bartlett from both Steve and Tony’s insistence and it came out clear. You learned a lot about the man, he was a law school drop-out and used to be a war correspondent where he unfortunately got discharged after being injured. His family was wealthy, much more than what you pictured (that explained the fancy patterns and his apparent enthusiasm for suspenders) and now he had his own rubric on the The Times’ website.

You spent the eve of your interview reading his articles and what you concluded was: he had a penchant for over-using french expressions in every paragraph and that his writing was honest and just. Sugar-coating didn’t exist in his words and straightforwardness was apparently his forte.

He came alone on the day of the interview, holding nothing more than a tripod and a camera in his messenger bag. He dug up a notebook and a pen from his bag as well and joked about still being old-fashioned about how he liked to take notes. The simplicity of the setting put you at ease, his typical English dry sense of humor relaxed you and you felt in control of the situation even though he was the one with the questions. You had the answers, you were the one holding the reins here, you reminded yourself at the slight pang of anxiety in your chest.

“Could you move a tad to the left so we could see the drawings behind you?” You moved as instructed, spinning a bit in your chair, the camera standing in your office pointed directly at you and Bartlett to its right, out of sight, sitting on Natasha’s chair. “Alright, brilliant.”

The faint beep of the camera echoed in the room as he started the recording and you straightened your posture, calmly looking at him as he shuffled through his notebook until he found what he was looking for. He discarded the pen tucked behind his ear and smiled softly at you, nodding imperceptibly. 

“Mrs Barnes-- May I call you that?”

“You may. That’s my name.”

“Fantastic. Shall we start, then?”

“Let’s, Mister Bartlett.”

And the interview began.

“Could you tell me more about yourself? We know a great deal about your teammates; Steve Rogers and his life in the army, Tony Stark and his past in the weapon industry, we have entire school books about Thor and Natasha Romanoff is classified information but you… you remain a mystery to a lot of us.”

“There’s not much to tell.” You said simply, shrugging a shoulder. 

“I beg to differ. You became an Avenger, there must be a story behind that.”

“Well, I was part of the SHIELD Academy. Operations division. And joined SHIELD’s STRIKE team later on.”

“Wasn’t STRIKE actually HYDRA?” He pressed.

“It was,” You agreed, people already knew and they deserved an explanation. “But to keep up appearances, they hired a few of SHIELD in their ranks. I was one of them.”

“So you worked closely with Brock Rumlow, Agent Sitwell and former Senator Stern without knowing who they really were.”

“It took decades to flush out HYDRA from SHIELD, in their defense, they were really good liars.”

He scribbled something down quickly, the amused huff that escaped him made you raise a brow.

“You trusted the people who tortured and kept away the man you later happened to marry.” He looked up and watched you twitch in your seat at the statement.

“I trusted them like I trust the Avengers today, yes. Believe me if right now it makes me sick to my stomach and I would have volunteered to put a bullet between their eyes myself. But they’re long dead and one thing I give equally to everybody once they’re gone, it’s their rest.”

“Did you know about the Winter Soldier?”

“Only whispers but I wasn’t allowed to ask. I heard about the ghost story, nobody had connected the dots yet.”

“And how did you happen to be an Avenger?”

“When STRIKE decided Steve -- Captain Rogers -- was a wanted man, I knew something was wrong and I didn’t hesitate to help them and fight for what I initially signed up for. I directly defied orders from the highest authority.”

“Which was?”

“Secretary Pierce himself.”

“And how did it go?”

“As well as you can imagine, really badly. But I’d do it again if I could. When Steve was declared a fugitive, we had orders to track their signal and trap them in an ambush. Natasha and Steve used a public connection in a shopping center and I was the only one who had a clear sighting of them and I did what my guts told me to do: I got them out. Stayed with them ever since.”

“Did you get to fight Sergeant Barnes?”

You let out a bitter chuckle, “I did. But that man wasn’t Bucky, it was the Soldier and I have to insist about the difference.”

“My apologies.” He crossed a few lines on his page, “Could you walk me through the fight?”

“You’re asking me to remember something from seven years ago?” You asked dumbfounded.

“Your first encounter, maybe?”

You allowed yourself a minute to think hard about that day, you remembered the smell of gunpowder and gas leaking from wrecked cars on the highway, your ears ringing after the explosion that almost got you for good. 

“I was in the car with Steve, Nat, Sam and Sitwell when he came snatching the steering wheel out of nowhere. Sitwell died, we crashed and the Soldier hunted me down. He had orders to bring me back to base, alive. He was strong, a brick wall and the feeling of his metal arm around my body, lifting me up effortlessly as if I was nothing more but a ragdoll, it threw me off guards. The more I put up a fight, the more he squeezed. I scratched his face so hard the goggles came off and that’s when one realizes there’s a man beneath the machine. This, however, I recall vividly.”

Bartlett, even though the interview was recorded, was furiously writing down a litany of things you couldn’t make sense of from where you were sitting. It took him a couple of minutes to finish and an entire page later, he cleared his throat.

“How did he end up joining the team?”

“In my career, I’ve seen all kinds of damaged and broken people, some rotten and twisted. But when I saw him standing by Steve’s body by the riverbank, terrified and confused, I knew I had to do something. It took me a long time to get him to trust me, he agreed to stay and come with us when they went to fetch Steve and haul him in an ambulance. They wanted to arrest him but I didn’t let them so I took responsibility for him. Always did.”

“One could call that fate.” He smiled lazily and crossed his legs, sinking back in the chair.

“Fate, destiny, foreshadowing. I only ever wanted to help Bucky as best as I could, to give him his life back. I never thought I would fall in love with him in the process, love never was at the forefront of my mind.”

“The modem love story,” He commented and flipped his notebook to another blank page, pen hovering and ready. “It’s been three years since the decimation took him from you, were you with him when it happened?”

“Yes. We were in Wakanda, I got injured and Bucky was helping me stand upright when Thanos snapped his fingers. He vanished in my arms, there isn’t a day I don’t think about it.” You admitted barely above a whisper and looked down at your hands resting on your lap. Bartlett let you compose yourself for a moment, giving you some privacy as you pushed the memory far away. “And I can’t stop thinking about all those people who saw their loved ones die in front of them like I did, how traumatising it has been and how they still are trying to cope. Not only half of the population got reduced to dust but a lot of people died  _ because  _ of it, too. Planes crashed, car accidents and train wrecks killed many, all those who had essential jobs to keep our lives steady and afloat, who got to do them in an emergency like this? And the suicide rate sky-rocketed in the following weeks, I saw the numbers. 

“One day, I told a friend of mine how I got it worse than everybody else because I was too focused on my pain. Today, I want to take it back because that’s actually the opposite. I have friends to help me in my most stubborn moments, not everybody had this chance. Working at the orphanage made me realise how wrong I had been all along, I’ve grown and learned from my mistakes.”

Slowly nodding at you and pen forgotten in his hand, Bartlett watched you with an unreadable gaze. He shook his head and snapped out of it.

“Your career made a one-eighty, from Avenger to carer. How do you explain that?”

“I don’t see any differences between the two. It’s not that distinct in terms of protecting and as you said, taking care of people.”

“I see one major difference though, you’re an Avenger sitting behind a desk now.”

“You keep referring to me as an Avenger but I haven’t been one for a long, long time.”

“What about Wakanda?”

“That was different,” You said, “Steve asked for our help. The team was barely assembled, we were still broken up.”

“What do you consider yourself now, then?” Bartlett asked without a pause.

The question hit you like a freight train, you let it sink in and slowly, it crashed your mind until your thoughts were rigged and you were unable to answer the question. 

Silence hung heavy in the room, your eyes flickered directly to the lens of the camera, “I am my own person,” You said finally. “My relationship status does not define me or my job. I am more than what they dictate me to be. I am but a mere reflection of them, my being a public personality gives me no space for privacy, yet I have to maintain an image and a reputation. Where, among all this, can I be the person I really am?”

“Is that why you tried to retire in the past?”

“The first time around was a deliberate choice, the other time was a forced outcome.” 

“Maybe you weren’t meant for retirement.”

“I don’t think it would change anything now, what happened with Thanos was not directly linked to us, it was an independent situation.” 

“I have one question before we wrap it up.” He said, “What would you be doing and where if Sergeant Barnes was still with us?”

“That’s a question I never dared to give much thoughts.” You smiled sadly. “I think we would have stayed in Wakanda. We loved this place, I’d like to come back there one day. We stayed two full years there, that’s the longest we’ve been alone together, Bucky and I. But I know, deep down, we wouldn’t have bear the thought of ignoring all that followed the decimation. I don’t think either Bucky or I are that selfish.”

“Nobody would have blamed you after such circumstances.”

“I think being selfish after an accident like this would actually be the worst case scenario.” You sighed, “I speak from experience.”

“What are you saying?”

“There’s something I never shared publicly, as I said before, privacy is a precious thing when you’re part of a group like the Avengers. Pictures of me and Bucky were leaked online and soon after we were accused of a terrorist attack so that made me a bit wary to reveal anything after that,” You toyed with the sleeve of your sweater, “Steve made me go to his group therapy thing but I couldn’t even bring myself to say Bucky’s name so, much less what happened soon after we got confirmation that my husband and half of my friends were doomed to never come back, probably dead, probably in-between worlds, we still have no idea.”

“What happened to you?”

“I talked about control before and everything slipped right through my fingers, sometimes quite literally; Bucky, my friends, my teammates. But also, I didn’t know it yet, a baby.”

Bartlett stopped mid-sentence, the sound of the pen scratching on paper was a distraction. Remove that distraction and it left nothing but the hard and cold weight of your admission hanging in the air. It wasn’t as painful as it once was, you hated how accustomed to it you had become but time healed wounds, as hurtful as they were.

Fidgeting in his chair, Bartlett glanced at his watch and he clearly was torn between feeling sorry for you and wanting to know more. You watched him settle on a decision with both amusement and pity.

“I could delete that part of the interview, if you wish.”

“No,” You said firmly. “You said you wanted to tell my story for people to identify with what I’ve been through. This is my story and still desire to have a say in how I want to tell it.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I brought it up willingly. It happens everyday, it could happen to a friend, a colleague, a family-member, you never know. But we have to carry on, right? I lost important things and today I decided to give others what’s been given to me: support and kindness.”

“Is that why you chose to act as a carer in an orphanage?”

“Helping Natasha with the orphanage was maybe a way to overcome my sorrow about losing a child. Care for those children helped me in return, that deep aching sadness of losing the opportunity of motherhood and putting it to good use instead. It was a sort of power exchange, I could be what those kids needed and they could be a surrogate for what I lost.”

Bartlett nodded thoughtfully. “How would you describe your grief?”

“It’s about the love that I couldn’t give, and that got snatched from me. I have nowhere else to place it, that unbearable weight I learned to live with and sometimes overwhelms me. As bittersweet as it is, it was always and only about love.”

When the interview was over, you felt hollow, all energy drained from your body. But also as if a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. Bartlett and you had borrowed one of Natasha’s bottles of vodka from her secret stash, why she had alcohol stocked there was beyond you but you knew better than to ask. You retrieved two plastic cups from a cabinet and drank the bitter liquid off camera.

“I remember you mentioned champagne when you ambushed me at my workplace.” You said.

“Vodka’s nice, too.” He replied and you laughed. “And I didn’t ‘ambush’ you.”

“Hmm. What do you call it, then?”

“Fortuitous meeting.” 

"Ah, should have added 'serendipity' to my list."

You shared a comfortable silence until the sound of your phone going off broke it. You redirected Natasha's call to voicemail and let out a sigh. You knew she was going to give you hell for doing this later, she only had your best interests at heart but she would need to wait a moment longer before reliving the whole interview to her, which you weren't all ready for just yet. 

You considered making her wait until Bartlett would post the video online.

"When is it going online?" 

"I just need time to edit it and write a small thing to go with it so I'd say by the end of the week, it will be out." He said and you nodded. 

"Okay, that's good."

"Do you want to remove something? I can always do it before it's too--" 

"No, thank you. I like it the way it is. I can't wait to see how it will turn out."

"Apprehensive?" 

"A little?" You admitted. "Excited. Terrified. There's a thin line."

"Well," Bartlett said, standing up and put down the neon plastic cup on your desk. "I gotta go, but may I say I've been delighted meeting you? Been an honor working with you, next time I will bring the champagne. I promise."

You accepted his outstretched hand and shook it, "What makes you think there will be a next time, Mister Bartlett?" 

"Please, call me Ellis." He put on his coat and placed a cigarette behind his ear, "And I'm always right about these kinds of things. I'm a journalist, after all."

* * *

Ellis notified you the moment the article was up and you thanked him profusely. He answered with a winking and bottle of champagne emojis and you started to wait.

For what exactly, you weren’t sure. 

Reactions of any kind, most probably, an Avenger allowing somebody to interview them was rare so you were anticipating what the world would get out of it. Something in the way it showed your vulnerable side made you want to hide and disconnect from the frenzy of it all for a few days.

And what was better than coming home in a remote cabin in the middle of the woods with two old men and your Alpine eagerly waiting for you.

Natasha had almost physically pushed you through the door when you asked for a few days off. You made a detour to Annie’s house and she and her siblings made you hot cocoa and took turns to be able to talk to you. Annie hugged you when it was time for you to head home and the five of them waved goodbye from the windows. 

When you decided it was time for the boys to watch the interview all together, Steve reached for your hand mid-interview and squeezed it so hard it almost brought you to tears. It was bittersweet; the aftermath didn’t shake your world upside-down and it continued to spin as usual, which you were grateful for but you hadn’t noticed how changed you looked when you watched yourself on screen.

The glint of youthful prosperity in your eyes was dull and almost extinct, the lines around your eyes were hardened with time and you looked almost severe, cold, apathetic. You didn’t recognise the person in the video, she was lifeless. It didn’t match with what you were actually feeling inside, the pain had settled and the wound was closed, leaving behind only a scar that itched from time to time. You weren’t looking for pity or comfort from anyone, but you guessed the point of the video was to show exactly the new reality you were living in. As difficult as it may be to accept. 

“I need some air.” You said after the screen faded to black. “I’m going for a walk, I’ll be home for dinner.” 

Steve and Tony didn’t argue and your feet immediately guided you to the familiar path leading to the not so small oak tree anymore. You took your time approaching it and dusted off the trunk facing it before sitting. 

More time passed before you actually spoke up, the guilt of not having come enough those past months gnawed at your insides. There, you let out a deep and weary sigh, collecting your thoughts. 

"Hey, Bucky." You said. "Long time no see, I know. I've been distracted by focusing on doing some good. Feels nice, being useful again.

"You'd be proud of the things I've accomplished, I think. Well, no, I'm sure of it," You cringed at how weak your words came out, "The orphanage is a beautiful place, I get to work with Nat everyday and she hasn't tired of me yet, so I call that a win." You chuckled lightly and brushed off dirt from your pant leg. "The interview went remarkably well for somebody who once got panic attacks at the mere mention of your name."

The silence that followed told a story of its own and you weren't ready to turn the page just yet. 

"I doubt you would like the woman I became today. A part of her isn't me anymore, I saw somebody else coming out of Wakanda and not for the better. It's odd how I thought I was helping you recover who you were and now I don't know who I am. I know I shouldn't be complaining but this is my truth."

Your thoughts got interrupted by something dropping in the lake nearby and you remembered the cheerful quacking of ducklings you woke up to this morning. 

"Do you think one day I will stop obsessively looking at our polaroids because I don't want your face to start fading from my memory? I'm so afraid of not having you enough in my mind, I'm afraid to let myself be happy again, I'm afraid that the world will move on and they will forget our efforts, that what we did was in vain after all. It's not fair. I--"

The harsh, piercing ringing of your phone went off and you cursed Tony out loud for managing to change your ringtone everytime you weren't looking. You really needed FRIDAY to make him stop his shenanigans. 

The number wasn't listed among your contacts, thinking of a work emergency, you picked it up even during this inconvenient moment. 

"Hello?" 

" _ Hello, is this Y/N? _ " 

"Herself. How may I help you?" You asked. 

" _ Oh, I'm so glad I've finally been able to get a hold of you. _ " The lady said. Her voice sounded strained but in the way an old person spoke, tainted with the weight of life. She had a familiar accent flowing easily on her tongue. 

"May I ask how did you get this number?"

" _ The nice lady with the Russian name kindly gave it to me when I called the orphanage after watching your interview. _ " She replied. " _ I've been looking for you for so long. _ "

Dammit, Natasha.

"I'm sorry, who am I speaking with?" 

" _ I don't know if he's mentioned me, hell, if he even remembered who I am," A pause, "My name is Rebecca Proctor but you perhaps might know me as Becca with Barnes as my maiden name. I'm Jimmy's sister _ ."

If you hadn't been sitting already, your knees would have given out. 

In all the things that could have happened in your life, this was something you never thought could be possible. What could be the chance, the  _ probability  _ that Rebecca Barnes was still alive at the same time as you? 

The universe proved you wrong once again and now, for what she would most likely be close to a hundred years old like her brother, you were directly talking to a relative of Bucky.

The only remaining link to him that wasn't you or Steve. 

" _ Hello?" _ Her concerned voice echoed on the phone and broke you out of your shock. 

"Sorry, I-- Yeah, I'm here." You answered, your voice sounded weak even to you.

" _ Do you have something you could write an address on? I'd like to see you one day, Y/N. Sooner rather than later, if you wouldn't mind _ ."

_ Before it's too late _ , you thought and shared the sentiment sympathetically even though you left it unsaid.

* * *

It was how, not even twenty-four hours later, you found yourself boarding a train to Brooklyn. 

There wasn't any time to waste, if grief taught you one thing, it was this. Time was precious and must be handled carefully otherwise the ticking sound would continue to haunt you and there wasn't any space in your conscience to spare for mistakes or wasted opportunities.

As you walked out of the train station, waiting for the cab Becca had insisted on paying for to come fetch you, breathing in the stale air of the city, reality hit you square in the chest. 

You were going to meet Bucky's sister. 

Anxious, apprehensive or eager, there was no backing down from this. Maybe being impulsive had its perks after all, it didn't leave you enough time to think things over before acting. 

The ride to the Barnes-Proctor's house was relatively short, they lived in the outskirts of Brooklyn, the area far enough to call it suburban but close enough for it to still be Brooklyn in all its glory. 

Nerve-wracking was the correct term to define how you felt standing in front of the yellow door, the porch was immaculate and the flowers hanging from the railings looking bright and healthy, the love and care they emanated was startling. 

Taking a deep breath, you let yourself pace for a second before knocking, there was no room for second-guesses either. 

The door opened to reveal a woman close to your age and height, her blinding smile was contagious and you found yourself relaxing instantly at the sight of her. 

"Hi, you must be Y/N." A chuckle, "Of course you are, you're expected. Come in!" She didn't hesitate to grab your hand and led you inside the house with a fierce determination in her steps. 

You discarded your heavy coat and handbag, she hung them for you on the rack alongside other jackets and hats. 

"I'm Kimberly. The granddaughter."

"It's a pleasure to meet you." You answered. 

"Kim, don't steal her from us before we even got to see her." A masculin voice entered the room and the breath in your lungs got knocked out at seeing who the voice belonged to. "Name's Scott, I'm Kim's brother."

They didn't look alike yet you couldn't help but find some similarities between that man and Bucky. The blue in his eyes and the dark hair got passed on and stayed in the family, you could give him that. 

"Hi," You shook his hand, "God, I'm sorry, I just didn't expect to meet all of you at once."

"Nana's growing impatient, you don't want to make her wait any longer, Kimmy." Scott said to his sister and Scott turned to you, stepped aside to let you enter the living room. 

The woman you saw there, sitting by the burning fire in an old chair as equally aged by time as she was, the resemblance was striking even under all this white hair and wrinkles. You could see it, there was no doubt the way her jaw occupied her face, the straight nose, the same small frown that furrowed her brows, hiding partially the exact same pair of eyes you gazed into lovingly for years. 

Becca Barnes, even if time ran its course on her body, was the spitting image of her brother. 

"Is this real?" You asked softly, "Is it really happening?" 

"It's alright, sweetheart." Becca removed the comforter from her lap and made an attempt to stand, only for Kimberly to quickly grab her frail figure and help her upright. "It's so good to finally meet you."

Your body moved on its own accord and your arms wrapped around her, half supporting her and the other half hugging her cautiously. 

"I wish he could be here to see that," You let out a wet chuckle, blinking back tears. "He remembered you, you know? He did."

You felt her squeeze you tighter, or trying to, and you let yourself feel the emotions submerging you for a short moment before steeling yourself again. 

"Hello," You said as you took place on the couch beside her, she patted your hand warmly and for a moment, neither of you spoke. It was just the both of you staring at the other in disbelief and amazement. 

"Hello." She replied as she cupped the side of your face. 

"I never thought this would happen, that it was possible."

"She's too stubborn to be ever taken from us, that one." Kimberly said and sat herself in the armchair opposite to you. 

Scott chose the one next to her and you individually looked at each of them, taking the time to fully remember this day. 

“So, Bucky has a grand niece and nephew. My world has turned upside down in a couple of days.” You said. 

“He would have loved being an uncle,” Becca said, “I tried looking for him the moment I knew he was alive but they never believed me when I tried calling Stark’s Tower. Then I decided to just… let him be, that he needed his space and I was already more than happy to see he had come back.” 

“I’m so sorry, Rebecca, if I knew back then, I would have helped you. Or done something.”

“I know you would have.” She grabbed your hand, “You’re such a good soul, but you can’t help everyone.”

“I can try, there’s no harm done in trying. If I didn’t do anything-- if I just sat there and watched Steve single-handedly bringing Bucky back, it would have been way more messy than it already was.”

“I read about it,” She turned to her grandson, “Scott, fetch me my green folder, would you?”

Scott disappeared upstairs for a short moment only to come back with said folder in hand. It was thick and heavy as he gently laid it across Becca’s lap. She opened it and a collection of newspaper clips were neatly nestled in the confine of the folder, some at the bottom appeared to be older, the paper creased and yellowed with age whereas the ones on top were of a better quality, even glossy from magazines. Some were even laminated and curiosity got the better of you, wondering how far back she had started to accumulate that many tokens.

“What's this?” You pointed to one sticking out of the pile.

“This one is the first that started it all.” She slipped the laminated piece of paper free and handed it to you.

“This is from 1945?” You asked dumbfounded as you read the date. 

“February ‘45, yes.”

“ **HOWLING COMMANDO HERO JAMES BARNES REPORTED MISSING IN THE ALPS, WHAT ARE THE CHANCES OF SURVIVAL IN THE MOUNTAINS?”**

“Oh.” You whispered.

“I’ve kept all of them,” Becca said. “Even the most terrible ones. They're almost as old as I am now.” She chuckled silently and you wondered whether she found them comical now or if she was still hurt by them.

“May I?” 

“Go ahead, love.” Becca handed you the folder with a smile.

She watched you go through it patiently, simply sitting there, content, as you made your way into the collection of well-kept treasures of the past. It was odd for you to see how ardently both siblings clung unto the past, Rebecca with her memorabilias and Bucky with his journal. As much as you had helped Bucky, his sister would have been the right person for the holes he has desperately tried to fill in his head for years. 

You very clearly remembered the times Bucky had been so caught in his own head, deep in the fog of his past that the images started to blur and fade until he became irritated at himself. It was hard for you to untangle the mess in his brain afterward, Bucky’s temper growing short and his refusal to let go, too stubborn to stop digging until you had to shake him out of it. A few times it left him in a quiet anger undirected at you but at himself, unfortunately what bothered him also bothered you, there had been no way Bucky hid anything from you without the guilt or remorse that followed after.

It would have been so much simpler if Becca had been there, if Steve had been available, if you had just an ounce of luck for the life you had tried to build not once but twice together.

If, if, if.

You were so sick of  _ what ifs _ and  _ if onlys. _

“Oh, hell, please don’t tell me it’s what I think this is,” Grabbing a bunch of torn magazine articles from a name you recognised from having read as a teenager, you huffed in part annoyance and part disbelief.

“Those are my findings!” Kim said proudly. 

You had never actually looked up those infamous pictures the two teenage girls you had encountered in the department store that one day told you all about, the ones you were actually never aware of their existence and you had chosen to remain that way up until now.

But today was different, you still hated the fact that even after a gruelling mission that had cost lives and an entire city, some people had preferred to be more invested in your privacy rather than helping the ones in need.

The pictures showed Bucky and you covered in grime, sweat and blood, your suit had multiple gashes in it and you were standing away from the helicarrier that had landed from Sokovia only moments prior. 

In the first picture, nothing indicated Bucky and you were anything more than teammates checking if the other was alright. You were both looking at each other, Bucky sure looked disheveled but from your memories of that day, he had been fine.

The second one could be interpreted differently as Bucky had your face cupped in both his hands. The look of fear clear in his eyes as he looked down at you, even from a distance it was clear enough that Bucky was worried for you. Meanwhile, you were looking to the side, making sure nobody was nearby.

The third and last picture, however, had been the jackpot for the person taking those shots. They had successfully been able to snap a picture of that urgent kiss Bucky had given you, the relief pouring into that one short, stolen intimate moment post-mission. 

"This," Becca said, "Is how I knew Jimmy was finally fine."

"Then we disappeared."

"Then you  _ lived _ ."

Hours passed and gradually, you felt a sense of belonging in this group of strangers. Rebecca had a wicked sense of humor and beneath her strong personality, hid a damaged person broken by her long life. She had seen things only the war would destroy a person and her life had been complicated from here on afterward. With Bucky's "passing", her parents had deteriorated quickly after, the son and heir lost to the war, Becca had to fend for herself for most of her life and death followed her, haunting and taunting her for years. Her brother, her father and mother all under a decade, the succession of events taking a toll on her young shoulders. 

But she was a Barnes and they were fighters, today she was at peace but something,  _ someone _ , was still missing. 

You stayed for dinner, night had fallen hours ago and she had insisted you ate with them before hitting the road again. 

"Have you ever been to Coney Island?" She asked, her fork and knife neatly set atop her empty plate. 

"Afraid not," You answered, finishing the rest of your wine. 

"You can't be serious," Scott exclaimed. 

They were all looking at you with wide eyes but you shrugged a shoulder, not seeing what the big deal was about.

"It's not what it used to be but if you were looking for Steve and Jimmy, that's where you'd go first." 

"I heard some stories, you must have known a very different Steve as well back then."

"He knew a different Becca, too. We all changed, that's what life is about, no?" 

You nodded, her words resonating deeply within yourself. 

"Nana, please." Kim said, laughing at her grandmother's antics. 

"Never you mind me, I'm being nostalgic." She stood from her chair and reached for her cane with a grunt, you watched her walk feebly to the chimney where she snatched something from the lower shelf right next to the very same photograph of the Howling Commandos Steve had framed at home.

"What's this?" 

"I want to give you something." She said and slumped back down on her chair, skidding closer to you. "Coney Island reopened soon after the war ended, they held celebrations there and all kinds of fireworks went off for days on end. Even though my brother was still missing, I wanted to honor our fallen heroes' sacrifice for our country. If my Jimmy was gone, I promised myself I would live long enough for the both of us. Now, I was never able to afford it but when I saw it there, standing on a pile of other Captain America dolls, I knew I had to win it. And I did."

She placed a perfectly intact replica of a Bucky Bear on the table, looking at it fondly before her wrinkled fingers pushed it toward you. 

"It has remained by my side since 1945, I know what it feels like to lose him and I've done my fair share of mourning for a lifetime. It's yours, now."

"Becca, I can't accept--" 

"Yes, you can. And you will! Don't cross an old woman, love."

Hesitating for another beat, you finally scooped up the bear in your hands. The years had been surprisingly kind to the plushie, there were a couple of stitches sewed on his blue jacket and ear but the work was too neat and precise to really notice it. 

"I don't know what to say." 

"Then don't say anything." She smiled kindly at you, "You're family, Y/N. You're kin. You miss him and I want to help by having something that can remind you of him and that can watch over you like you did with him when I couldn't. Help me repay you."

You swallowed the lump in your throat but the tears were, for once, of joy and not of grief. You leaned forward and gently wrapped your arms around her for the second time that day, hugging her with the bear still in your hand, as if Bucky himself was in the embrace. 

"I'm so grateful for having the chance to meet you. Thank you." You said sincerely and you felt her palm rubbing your back in soothing circles. 

"Thank you for giving him the chance to be himself again, for saving him." She whispered back. 

The awe and admiration for this woman only grew stronger, the hollow space in your heart felt less empty now as another Barnes filled it with a different kind of love but both just as genuine. 

"I will take care of it, I promise." You told her. 

"I never doubted it.


	5. 2022: Acceptance

Cold. 

What an odd construct. 

You could feel it in your bones, you could feel it in your heart but bizarrely, cold felt much more comforting. Over time, you learned that cold was stronger than warmth and that you could find the same familiarity you once had with warmth. The envelope around and in your body had the same sensation to it. It may be different from each other but cold never left, it protected you, whereas warmth was only felt in short bursts every other day, week, month, rendering you nothing but vulnerable and a hollow shell afterward when the fire had died down. Cold was numbing where warmth had once been empowering. It was all a question of which one you let consume you.

The cold had layers, each one thicker than the previous one but warmth, those sporadic occurrences weren’t to spare either. It melted the ice around your heart enough to keep your head above water.

Warmth today emanated in diverse shapes and forms, was it the sleepy laugh of Natasha when you came back to her place after a long day at work.

Or catching that longing look in Tony’s eyes directed at Steve when the latter was too busy noticing it, the same familiar look you recognised and were the recipient of from Bucky’s eyes once.

Or the small cuts and scratches made by feline claws on Tony’s hands even though he repeatedly denied having played with Alpine.

Or the regular emails from Becca’s granddaughter, Kim, keeping you updated about her health and with pictures attached as proof of her well-being.

Or the drawing Annie made for your birthday that you had framed and placed on your nightstand so every morning, the first thing you saw as you woke up, was Bucky’s now worn polaroid picture leaning against the drawing of you and her kept safe behind glass.

But Steve had proved to have enough warmth for the two of you when he reminded you to eat, to not work too late, to take it easy. He had an eye on you constantly and you started to grow suspicious of Natasha giving him reports about you.

The people, all of those you loved and cherished, were the warmth.

And the cold, that ugly and ever growing stain in your life, was all things lost and the possibilities that once were, now gone.

You had to find a way back to warmth again.

One day, standing next to Steve while he washed dirty dishes and you were posted at the drying station (much to Tony’s dismay about his brand new dishwasher), you blurted out, 

“I’m thinking about going to Wakanda again.”

Steve didn't answer right away, the silence was infuriating as he didn't let any emotions show on his face while he took his sweet time washing the last plate. He finally handed it to you and in response, you raised a brow, accepting the wet plate in your hands. 

"How long?" Was all he answered. 

"Not long, I don't think I could bear it."

"You think it's a good idea?" He crossed his arms, leaning against the counter. 

Putting away the plate haphazardly in the cupboard, focusing your attention on Steve's odd behavior. 

"Steve, speak your mind. I hate it when you do that." 

"What do I do?" 

"Your face, you can't lie. There's something you're not telling me."

Steve let out a sigh, he looked down at his feet and his shoulders fell then rose again after taking a deep, defeated breath. 

"I worry it might trigger you, Y/N. You were doing so well-- you  _ are _ doing so well. I don't want to come to Wakanda because Okoye called us in an emergency."

"Your fears are founded, I get it, but I need to come to terms with a lot of things. I just thought it would do me some good, gauge my own reaction once I'm here."

"So you're telling me you don't know how you'll react once there." Steve's face hardened and you grimaced. Wrong thing to tell him. 

"No, it's-- Well-- Steve, look," You said more confidently, "I didn't say I would go tomorrow, or the next week. I'm just thinking about it. Let me make my own choices?" You told him gently, "I know you worry about me a great deal but if you respect me enough, you'd let me decide for myself."

"I didn't--" Another sigh then a shake of his head. Steve uncrossed his arms and placed his hands on your shoulders instead, "I would never tell you what to do. I'm just… voicing my concerns. I promised."

"Promised what?" You cocked your head to the side. 

Steve's hands slid from your shoulders, "I promised him. Bucky."

The knot in your throat tightened but you swallowed it, you gave Steve a small but genuine smile. "And I'm sure he's grateful for that but there's another thing he would have probably told you, too."

"What?"

"' _ Do as Y/N says' _ , no doubt."

Steve's face shifted into something less grave, then. He even mirrored your smile with one of his own followed by a light chuckle. 

"I can't leave his best girl behind."

"No, but you're leaving her to be independent and if need be, distract her when she would be overwhelmed." You smirked. 

"You can't give me orders, I outrank you." Steve played along. 

"Hell I can't, Rogers. I know where you live."

"You're spending too much time with Nat."

"Seriously, Steve," You said, sitting atop the counter, "As I said, It's just a thought. I'm not going to go head-first into something I know would endanger my mental health, give me some credits, I'm not that stupid. But I loved living in Wakanda, I genuinely miss the place. It's packed with memories of Bucky but it's a risk I'm willing to take. Just a few days, a week or two, not long."

Steve let your words sink in for a moment, thinking about the situation, "What if I went with you?" 

"It's a journey I'd need to take alone, but thank you for asking."

"Alright," He shrugged good-naturedly, "That's fair enough." A pause. "Whatever you decide, I will be here for you."

"Thank you, Steve, that's why you've always been the best of us."

"Now that's debatable." Tony said from the doorframe, "You wound me."

"You're a close third, Tony, don't put yourself down."

"Who's second?" He asked, not expecting another person before him. 

"Nat."

Yours and Steve's laugh could be heard bouncing through the house as it woke Alpine up from her spot beneath the covers of your bed. You didn’t have the heart to correct yourself for their sakes as in reality, Steve was second and Tony fourth on the list. You glanced at the black and white picture of Steve and Bucky from 1944 hanging close by and smiled knowingly at it. 

Work progressed as its usual course in the meantime. You went to the orphanage, came back to Nat’s place that you started to call home too, accepted Steve’s daily phone call and opened Tony’s picture texts of Alpine he sent every couple of hours. 

Annie was a sweet, grounding constant in your life and to say you had not taken a particular interest in the girl would be lying. She was bright, easy to be with and she loved you. Your fondness for each other was clearly mutual and Nat often pretended to not see too much in it. You tried to not chew the boys’ ears about her as well but as time passed, they were the ones to actually start asking about her, Tony’s curiosity about her arm didn’t relent and you were beginning to give in to his whim. Annie’s arm  _ was  _ old and she would outgrow it soon anyway.

So when Tony showed up on a Friday morning to the orphanage, hiding behind orange sunglasses even if the sky was covered with clouds and rain was threatening to break, the smugness on his face was shining enough to put to shame today’s weather.

“I’ve got a delivery!” He announced proudly as he walked in your office without knocking. Natasha’s reflexes were faster as she threw the closest thing she could grab in his direction, which happened to be a water bottle he barely managed to dodge. “Is that how you greet friends, Nat?”

“Unexpected ones, yes.”

“Aw, I startled you.” He cleared his throat and ignored Natasha’s death glare. That’s when you finally noticed the case hanging from his shoulder. “Anyhow, I caught wind of someone’s eleventh birthday so I thought driving four hours would be an ideal plan for the day.”

Natasha turned to you, you didn’t know her glare could deppen any more lethal and yet, she liked to prove you wrong.

“Wait, wait, I didn’t say anything! Nat, you have to believe me!”

“Is that what I think this is?” She asked Tony, deciding to deal with you later.

“By  _ that  _ you mean a brand new cybernetic arm I designed and created myself, then yes, it is.” 

“Oh, God.” You said, hiding your face in your hands.

“Are you really going to take that away from me?” 

“I will if I have to.” Natasha said.

“Enough, alright, I didn’t tell him to do it but I also didn’t outright tell him not to.” You interved, “Look, Nat, what’s done is done now, would be a shame for Annie not to enjoy it. We have to think about her first, there’s nothing wrong with getting her a new arm per se, but Tony, for fuck’s sake!”

“What if we just let the kid decide for herself for once?” He said and Natasha and you both heaved a sigh.

The case was in point the moment Annie’s eyes grew wide with recognition when Tony entered the solace of her home. You were ready for a shriek, that piercing high-pitched sound you now could pinpoint when it would erupt at the exact second, but when Tony revealed the content of the case, Annie’s jaw went lax and silence reigned. Tony’s smirk, that parasite you learned to live with, was erased from view with a roll of your eyes and your attention shifted back to Annie.

She was enthralled and completely in shock, she stayed still on her knees, facing her birthday gift for so long your hand itched to shake her out of her visible trance. 

“Annie?” Natasha whispered, the amusement in her voice was difficult to conceal.

“That’s for me?” She answered after a beat, her voice was so soft and weak.

Tony dramatically spinned on his feet, looking for somebody. “I don’t see anyone here in need of a right arm, girlie.”

In a blur of movements, she stood up and threw herself at Tony, she was tall enough to reach his midriff and she squeezed him in a crushing hug.

You saw her older brother take out his phone and angling it toward them to snap a picture of his sister knocking the air out of Iron Man’s lungs. That was a memory they would all love to cherish.

After discarding the old, obsolete arm from her shoulder, Tony rolled up his sleeves and got to work. He put the new, lighter arm on her himself and showed her how to do it herself. The arm fitted her flesh stump like a glove and the straps possessed a simple yet modern technology to them that could make it easier for her in her everyday life. The straps had velcro before and Tony had replaced them by proper straps that could be fastened tight or loose with one hand by just tugging on them.

“You can shower and go for a swim with that one, make snowballs, play in the rain. It won’t rust. If it does, well, you have free warranty for life and unlimited birthday upgrades.” Tony handed her his card with his personal number and email address, which she happily took with fresh and new fingers. 

“Thank you so much, Mister Stark.” She said shyly, happy tears on the verge to spill from her green eyes.

“We mean it, Mister Stark,” Her brother, Jordan, spoke up, “And thank you, Miss Romanoff, Mrs Barnes, It really means the world what you do for our family.”

“Aren’t we all family now? I sure consider you like one.” You said and Alex came happily trotting to you. You had no choice but to pick up the child when a pout formed on his lips when you stared at his hands making grabbing motions at you. 

Something swelled in your chest at the weight of the kid in your arms, the ache that you had repressed for a long time threatened to rise up again but you pushed it back down, beat it into retreat until it was only a dull murmur in the corner of your mind. 

Natasha, being the one with eyes everywhere, of course noticed your frown and absent eyes. 

“Hey, I think it’s a good time to eat that cake, you chose the cake so you get to light up the candles.” She said and without preamble, gently lifted the boy off from you. 

Nobody else seemed to acknowledge your apparent turmoil and you silently thanked Natasha for the welcomed distraction. 

Lighting up candles with shaky hands had proved to be harder than it was but with a deep breath, you made it work. Nothing, surely not a panic attack coming from four years ago, would ruin this day. 

A promise that you indeed kept. For a few hours, Annie was the center of attention and everybody got enough cake and sugary-sweet soda for a lifetime. You played games and learned that afternoon Tony was a sore loser when it came to losing at a game of Monopoly. Natasha, Tony and you made it back to your office just after dusk, a lazy smile plastered on your faces after a break those kids deserved. 

“Well,” You said and slumped down on your chair, “That was fun.” 

“It really was,” Natasha agreed.

“A shame Steve wasn’t with us, but next time, we’ll bring him over here.”

Tony leaned against your desk and nodded at the two of you.

There was a pause, the three of you just enjoying silence after powering through a day full of kids’ babbles and chatters. 

You would do it all again.

“Speaking of which, I almost forgot.” Tony said and slipped out a rectangular piece of paper out of his pocket. “It’s for you. Courtesy of Steve and I.” 

Choking on your tongue after reading the multiple zeros written on it, you slid it toward Natasha with the same look Annie had on her face only hours prior.

“That’s a lot of money, Tony.” She said and you let out a strangled noise.

“That’s all you have to say? It’s an  _ insane _ amount of money, we can’t accept.” 

“You can and you will.” Tony shrugged.

“You’re crazy. Steve agreed to this?” You said dumbfoundedly.

“Actually, he was the one suggesting it. I agreed and we split the donation.” 

“What the fuck. I-- We can’t, it’s too much money.”

“Oh, bullshit!” Tony said. “There’s no such thing as ‘too much’ money for any of you here, if there’s people that need it, it’s you. You never know what tomorrow will be made of, what if a kid is ill, what if ovens break. Those kids will always need medication, food and clothes, and all of that comes with a cost.” 

“Tony…”

“I’m not taking it back. Don’t make FRIDAY hack into the orphanage’s funds.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s okay. Go break some eggs.” 

Natasha’s response to this was a not-so-gentle punch in Tony’s shoulder followed by an offended grunt from Tony. 

“You’re an idiot. Steve and you. You’re both idiots.” She said, flexing her fingers to ease the small after-punch pain.

Tony rubbed his shoulder, turning to you with a pleading look in his eyes. 

You tsked, “You had it coming, tin-man. Lucky for Steve, he isn’t here.” 

“I just did that with the kindness of my heart and that’s how it’s received?”

“Tony, it’s thrice the amount we got at the fundraiser, and we still have plenty of that money left.” You countered.

“This money doesn’t come from a bottomless pit, it will come to an end sooner than you think.”

“Says the man who never had this problem,” Natasha said.

“Now, that's a bit unfair, don’t you think?” Tony crossed his arms.

A sudden, rapid succession of knocks rattled against the door and you were grateful for it breaking the dumbest argument you ever had to be part of. 

Mister Morton, head of security, entered the room with an apologetic face, nodding at the three of you, “You’ve got a visitor.”

Behind him emerged Annie holding what appeared to be a doggy bag. 

“This is for Captain Rogers,” She said, offering the bag to Tony. “We thought he would like some cake, too.” 

“Thank you, Miss Annie. I’ll make sure to give it to him on his cheat day.” 

Annie giggled and waved goodbye, you smiled at the glint of the light reflecting brightly on her arm when she left. 

“She’s a precious little girl, don’t let her down.” Tony said to Natasha and you shook your head at them both. 

You accepted Tony’s offer to drive you back home for the weekend, eager to see Alpine after a couple of weeks spent in Washington and to spend some time with Steve. Tony was doing most of the conversation two hours in the trip when he glanced at you, the lack of answer from your part alerting him.

“Hey, getting sleepy?” 

“No,” You straightened, massaging the sides of your sore neck after spending too much time in a crooked position. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“Doesn’t matter. Where did you go?” 

“Wakanda, actually.” 

“Wakanda?”

“Yeah, I… I’m considering traveling there for a bit.” You admitted. “Before you tell me it’s a bad idea like Steve did, it’s just this, an idea.”

“Steve said that?”

“Not in those words but he worries it might be triggering for me. Which in itself, yes, might be a bad idea if it happens but, I need--”

“Closure.” Tony finished for you.

“Yes.” You said, relieved to see Tony would understand. 

Tony didn’t say anything else for a while, just content enough to drive and be lulled by the roar of the engine as he changed speed.

“I would even bet Steve proposed to come with you.” 

“He did!” You chuckled.

“Esh, no,  _ that’s  _ a bad idea.” 

“You know how he is, we can’t blame him.” 

“Oh, I’m painfully aware of that. If it’d be me I would feel like I was intruding in your journey. You clearly had a life there and Steve doesn't know half of it. He wouldn’t understand, not exactly.” He said, “You’re a grown woman and you’ve changed, we trust you. You have us on speed dial if you would need moral support.” 

“I appreciate that, thanks.” You dropped your head against the headrest and watched the stars come out slowly as you entered the less polluted area of the state of New York.

“Besides, I could easily get Happy to fly you there.” 

“Oh, to have friends in high places.” 

“Who also just donated half a million dollar to you.” 

“Shut up,” You laughed, “But I think, if I’m going through with my idea, I’d like to fly economy. Carbon footprint is no joke, Tony.”

“We did reduce that by half already, and that’s no joke either.” Tony said, “But I have to insist, there’s no reason why you couldn’t choose first class at the very least.”

“Is that how you compromise? Whether or not I can sip on cheap champagne and rest my legs up?” 

“Trust me, the moment they will see your name on the passenger list, you won’t get anything cheap brought to you.”

“There’s no way I can win this, huh.” 

“Speaking from experience, nope.”

You groaned. Tony snickered. And home was finally within arm’s reach.

* * *

When Steve dropped you off at the airport, the snow had been the perfect excuse for him to tell you it wasn’t too late to cancel the flight, making sure you were certain of your choice.

“Why the long face, Steve? Stop worrying, please, everything will be alright, and I’m not talking about the snow. It’s December, they know what they’re doing.”

“It’s not Washington you’re going to,” He said, fake glasses on his nose and hood pulled up to blend in with the crowd. 

“Okoye will be there when I land, Tony has Happy on standby if I want to come home pronto, and I’m sure you will have your phone on yourself at all times. Please, Steve, you make me feel like a kid that needs her dad’s permission to do something.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” He looked down at his feet, “Be careful, it’s all I ask.” 

“I will. C’mere,” You pulled him in a hug and Steve cradled you in his arms softly, as if you were made of glass. That embrace wasn’t the fierce, tight ‘I will miss you’ hug and you wanted to say something, tell Steve to stop once again but you just patted his back and resigned yourself to a few more seconds of Steve being over-protective before you made your way to check-in. 

You bent down to retrieve your suitcase in one hand and Alpine’s carrier in the other. Steve watched you weigh your suitcase, show your boarding pass to the lady and as well as yours and Alpine’s passports before walking to the gates giving to security. You turned back to him one last time, smiling as he gave you a tight nod, mirroring your smile as best as he could. 

Security procedures went faster than expected and you didn’t pay attention to the flustered young employee that had been the one checking your suitcase, he had instantly recognised you and stuttered throughout the whole process. Needless to say, it had been awkward for the both of you for the entirety of the three minutes you stood in front of him. 

_ >> made it thru security _ , you typed on your phone.  _ got recognised and it got weird when the dude checked my panties _

_ >> thats what u get for flyin economy,  _ Tony replied a second after.   
_ did u wink? _

_ >> gross, Tony, he was like 19 maybe _ _   
_ _ and not to mention he was clearly a fan _

_ >> get urself a drink and take a chill pill bc its gonna get weirder _ _   
_ _ relax while u can _ _   
_ _ im giving u 30 min tops b4 kids come to ask u for pics and autos _

_ >> jeez thanks, I’m just gonna tell them to mail them out to you _

_ >> ;) _

“A drink,” You said to yourself, “I wouldn’t say no to one.” 

To your surprise, the lounge bar was almost deserted when you sat yourself at a remote table. A waitress arrived at your table immediately, took your order and was polite enough not to strike conversation with you even if you could tell she had clearly recognised you as well. 

She set down the glass of red wine in front of you and you saw her hesitate for a second, she took a step in the opposite direction then turned back to you again. 

“May I just say, on behalf of the staff, it’s an honor to have you with us today, Mrs Barnes.” 

“Thank you.” You gave her a nod. 

She clasped her hands in front of her body and didn’t linger any longer, which you were grateful for.

The wine tasted as good as it was expensive and you snapped a picture to send to Tony.

>> _ it's 5pm somewhere in the world _ , you wrote and attached the picture.

>> _ i couldnt agree more _ _   
_ _ french? _

>> _ yessir _

_ >> any kids around yet? _

_ >> nope, it’s a bar Tony, not Macdonald’s _ _   
_ _ but the waitress said I was a pleasure to serve _

_ >> u r lying _

_ >> ok fine, she just said it was a pleasure for them to have me here today _

_ >> cute _ _   
_ _ i wouldve gone for somethin stronger but u did listen to me _ _   
_ _ enjoy _ _   
_ _   
_ _ >> thanks  _ _   
_ _ I’ll keep you posted once I landed _

_ >> pls do _ _   
_ _ ill take care of steve _

_ >> in whatever way you will, make him stop thinking or his brain will liquify and pour out of his ears _

_ >> on it _ _   
_ _ ;) _

_ >> stop w/ the winking emojis already, that’s creepy _ _   
_ _ and gross _

_ >> buzzkill _ _   
_ _ have a safe flight, Y/N _

_ >> TTYL, Tony _

With two hours to kill before the gates would open, you decided to savour that glass of wine to its last drop, taking the time to think and let yourself drift to memories of Wakanda and of Bucky. 

Although you were eager and sure of yourself, you were apprehensive of what that trip would bring to you. Another breakdown or a conclusion for that chapter of your life, you had accepted both outcomes already. 

Moving on was too heavy of a term for you, too final. But acceptance had a better ring to it. You would accept, but you wouldn’t forget. Reality would either come slap you or numb you, but the work you had done on yourself, the help you had received, could be a test to see if you were stronger than you thought yourself to be. There was only one way to find out.

Another glass of wine and another hour later, you stopped yourself before possible drunk embarrassment and decided to check out what kind of memorabilia craps the airport was selling. Satisfied your head didn’t spin when you stood, you were about to grab your bags when a man blocked your way.

“Hey, there,” The man slurred and you could smell the liquor on his breath, “Do I know from somewhere?”

“Excuse me.” You said and side-stepped him. 

But the man only blocked you a second time. “You’re that Avenger chick.”

"You must be mistaken." You tried to ignore him but he grabbed your elbow with enough force you huffed in pain. 

"C'mon, I'm just tryin' to have a conversation with you. Let me buy you a drink." 

"I think you've had enough." You retorted but he squeezed tighter. 

You bit your cheek, the bitter tang of your own blood on your tongue filled you with rage. 

"Let go of me," you said firmly. You really didn't want to cause a scene in the middle of an airport but here you were, three seconds away from punching a drunkard in the face. 

“Oh, we’ve got one with a temper.” The man licked his lips and you felt nauseous at the sight, “Show me what you’ve got, Doll.”

_ Doll _ .

The word was like a switch in your brain. You curled your fingers in a fist and aimed low, the sound of your knuckles connecting with his guts was muffled by a pained grunt. He dropped to his knees miserably, holding his stomach and you jumped on the occasion to glance around the room to check if anybody had seen what transpired.

Just as you had entered it, the bar had remained mostly empty so your cover hadn’t yet blown except for the waitress that had kept her distance. 

The man was now laying on his side, his drunken state making it hard for him to crawl back to his feet. When he made a weak attempt at it, you stomped on the back of his hand, not hard enough to crush bones but enough to cause pain.

“I never, ever, allowed you to call me that.” You applied a little more pressure on his hand and the man cried out, “Keep your hands to yourself, you hear me? Treat any woman like this again and I will show you where my shoe fits next. Your hand, however, I can’t promise it will stay attached to your arm.”

His words were too incoherent to form proper sentences as intoxication, fear and pain were flowing in his veins so you let go of him and grabbed your belongings. You quickly peeked inside Alpine’s carrier and to your relief, she was still sound asleep, the commotion apparently not important to wake her up.

Heading to the bar, you hadn’t noticed the waitress had been standing behind it with wide eyes, having witnessed it all.

“This guy had one too many drinks, couldn’t stay upright on his feet anymore, I’m afraid. Might have to call security for that one.” You lied, giving her a pointed look which she replied with a nod, securing your lie. “Thank you for your service today.” You fished for your wallet and gave her a hundred dollar note as a tip. “Have a nice day.”

Before she could respond, you smiled and left the lounge. 

That unlucky encounter, you decided, wouldn’t deter you from your goal. You wouldn’t let it get in your way. This man was nothing, just a tiny scratch in the grand scheme of things and you would be damned if you chickened out simply because a drunk asshole had acted as a drunk asshole.

But that word, that single word had been a spark of both anger for you coming out of the man’s mouth and of longing for a past and memories you terribly yearned for. The bittersweet feeling curling low in your belly.

You decided not to text Tony about it and texting Steve was absolutely out of the question, he would make a U-turn on the road the moment he knew about it and it wouldn’t solve anything. 

So steeling yourself and emptying your head it was, how great the timing was now that you couldn’t have another drink even if the adrenaline had sobered you up instantly. The wheels in your head were turning and you needed a distraction that wasn’t alcohol. Passing by a fragrance store, the horrid smell of a multitude of strong perfumes assaulted your senses and the opportunity was too great to miss. 

You entered the store. 

You were going to get drunk on scents, giving yourself a headache instead of your mind going places you wouldn’t like to go. 

Even if it was early December, Wakanda welcomed you warmly. The people there matched the weather with their kindness. The agent at immigration rubber stamped your approved entrance in the country and flashed you a bright smile, whispering a secretive “welcome back!” for your ears only. It had made you wonder if a lot of Wakandans were aware of your past in their country.

A woman was standing out of the crowd, her height and shaved head all too easy for you to recognise she was there for you. She wasn’t holding any signs with your name on it nor was she pretending to blend in. She had a trademark hard look on her face that didn’t show any kind of emotions when you approached her. 

“I wasn’t aware that a Dora Milaje was appointed as my driver.” You said in a chuckle.

The joke landed flat and empty as it flew over her head. Not your proudest moment.

“This way.” She said and didn’t wait for you to catch up. 

She led you through a private hallway leading to another private parking lot you had no idea existed.  _ Fancy _ , you thought, you were probably in the place important guests were being dealt with with their departures or arrivals. Looking around, you immediately spotted a black SUV stationed there, and more importantly, the General clad in a red armor holding a spear. 

“Okoye.” You said, “Thank you for having me.” 

“I have to say, your call did surprise all of us.” She replied, her tone was friendlier than you last remembered, “But you’re always welcome here.”

“That means a lot to me, thank you.”

“Hop in.”

She held the door for you and you seated yourself on the backseat, placing Alpine’s carrier between your feet while Okoye graciously put your suitcase in the trunk for you. She slammed it shut and joined you a second later, taking the empty seat on your right.

“Where do you want to go first?” She asked.

“The farm,” You exhaled. “I have to decline any proposition of lodging in royal quarters.” 

“You will have to decline  _ again _ , you mean.” She smirked and didn’t hide her knowing look. “I thought so.”

“I hope it’s not too much to ask, I don’t want to overstep.” 

“Relax, it’s no secret to anyone where you intended to stay. In fact, no one lived there since you left the farm. It’s your house, always has been.” 

“I don’t know if it will be a shared sentiment once I get there, I did think I would come back accompanied.” You said and Okoye averted her eyes.

“It’s been hard for all of us, Y/N. I remember not being able to set foot into the Citadel for a month, eventually the need to help my country overcame my grief and as a General, I had to step up for Wakanda.” She said softly.

“You did way better than what we’ve done, that’s for sure. In my two years living among the rest of you, your country and its people taught me more than what my life spent in America did. I always said the world had a lot to learn from you and there you are, proving it to me again.” 

“Those are very sweet words, but they mean nothing if the world is in shambles and last time I checked,” She said, “It still is.”

“It means you have no rival, then.” You joked.

“It would mean an easy win, there’s no competition if I don’t have an adversary.” 

“Oh, Okoye. Do you ever laugh?”

“All the time.” She said with a blank and serious face, the kind Natasha tried to pull up when she tried to remain impassive to your horrible sense of humor.

Okoye got you there, she had more wit in her than you anticipated and the rest of the drive was uneventful. She let you gaze outside the window in silence, absorbing the Wakandan landscape once again after long aching years of wishing to return there. 

When the SUV came to a stop a few feet from the farm, Alpine started to meow in her carrier.

“Can you smell it, baby? Do you know where we are?” You murmured, watching her scratch the mesh of her kennel.

“Someone’s excited to be here.” Okoye spoke up, already out of the car. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah, just give me a sec’.” 

Okoye bowed her head slightly and left you some privacy to compose yourself. Your thoughts were all over the place but you took a few deep breaths to collect yourself from the incoming onslaught of emotions.

She had already wheeled your suitcase to the front door, her body remained taut and straight, the warrior within her never not on duty. Her eyes were looking at the horizon while she respectfully and patiently waited for you there. 

“Thank you, General. I can take it from there.”

“Very well,” She gave you a curt nod. Force of habit, you guessed. “Call if you need anything. I will have someone fend for you if you need or want anything.”

Okoye handed you the set of keys and you took them, juggling them in your clammy and shaking hand. If she had noticed, she was polite enough not to comment on it. You answered her nod with a grateful smile and that was it, you were now alone, standing a door away from a possible mistake.

You inserted the key in the hole and unlocked the door. Finally, slowly, you pushed it open and the familiarity of doing it a hundred times before came back rushing in your mind. Muscle memory was intact when you raised the door from its hinges a little as you entered, the vivid memory of its sharp squeak making your hair stand on end.

_ “Bucky, the door! You said you would grease it!”  _

_ “Guess I forgot.” _

_ “It makes my ears bleed.” _

_ “Your ears are fine. Just put a little weight on it and problem solved. Poor people technique. You’re welcome.” _

_ “Idiot.” _

You had never told him back then but the method had actually worked, the door did stop creaking and the noise now put a smile on your face.

“Guess we’re home, eh Alpine?” 

You put her down and joined her on the floor, reaching out to the zipper to let her free. You watched her closely, her hesitation the first few seconds soon merged into immediate recognition as she carefully sniffed her way out of the carrier, her ears pointing forward. 

“That’s right, Al’. We’ve been here before, remember? Been a while but I had hoped you wouldn’t forget.” You said as Alpine now openly roamed around the room. “We had a great time, here.”

You looked up and around the room, copying Alpine. 

Nothing had changed. Dust had settled and everything had stayed just as you left it, frozen in time. Yours and Bucky’s shoes by the front door, his discarded jacket on the backrest of the couch, the airband on the coffee table near two empty glasses. The mug still shattered to pieces in the kitchen sink, a memorial of your hasty departure to battle. 

The house was still full of you, of Bucky, of Alpine, and yet, it was soulless. 

To say you were overwhelmed when you crossed the threshold of your old bedroom was an understatement. The bed was made, Bucky had made it everyday with military precision every morning, so it wasn’t a surprise to you when you saw it neat and tidy. The knot in your stomach tightened painfully at the sight of it, but the lump in your throat prevented you from crying right there, numbly standing in the middle of the room while staring at the bed.

You pressed a hand against the covers, smoothing the crease right after and cursing yourself for destroying one of the last acts Bucky had done in this house. 

How ridiculous it would be to start crying because of an unmade bed. 

You heard a meow followed by sloppy scratches in the living room and you silently thanked Alpine for the provided distraction. You found her standing on her hind legs, furiously pawing at the glass door.

“Wanna take a walk outside? Let’s go get some fresh air for a bit.” You said and opened the door.

Alpine took off instantly, running outside as if her life depended on it and you ran after her, yelling about her safety as unmowed grass tickled your feet. You followed her trail easily and she led you to the farm. The paint was peeling off and molds from the humidity started to cover the bottom part of the walls. The paper-thin door almost broke in your grasp as you entered the familiarity of the farm.

“Stevie?!” You blurted out at the single goat standing there, munching on hay. “Oh, my God. It’s you, isn’t it? It’s you!”

You scooted closer, still unsure of the reality of the moment unfolding in front of your eyes. But there was no mistake, the black spot circling his left eye was a solid proof of Stevie’s… aliveness. His coarse coat of previously white fur had faded over the years and let place to a greyish color but that “birthmark” left little to no doubt it was your favorite jerk of a goat. Alpine rubbing herself all over him also made it difficult for you to think otherwise.

Snatching your phone from your back pocket, you quickly snapped a picture of the two furry friends’ reunion and sent it to the groupchat you shared with Steve and Tony.

>> _ made it safely to Wakanda, am at the farm _ _   
_ _ look who I stumbled upon there, thriving _

>> _ whos that _

_ >> He’s still there? How is he doing? _ _   
_ _ How are you doing? How’s it going?  _ Steve replied just after Tony.

>> _ idk how he survived on his own but I see hay and water buckets around, they must come sporadically to feed him _ _   
_ _ am okay, ngl it’s rough but hanging in there, doing better than I imagined _ _   
_ _ sorry for not keeping you updated right away, was catching up w/ Okoye _

_ >> steve just told me who is he but refuses to tell me his name _ _   
_ _ should i be worried _

_ >> His name is Stevie _ _   
_ _ Bucky named him, he was very proud of himself _

_ >> Tony hasn’t stopped laughing for the past five minutes, thanks. _

_ >> you should feel honored honestly _ _   
_ _ he’s bleating his greetings btw _

_ >> i like this one,  _ sent Tony.

>> _ Tell us how it’s going. Call us if you need. _

_ >> jeez steve let her breathe she just arrived _ _   
_ _ u only told her this a thousand times _ _   
_ _ she knows _

_ >> thank you both, and don’t get used to my absence for too long _

You returned to the house with Alpine in your arms, her paws had turned to a green color from her sprint in the grass and giving her a bath wasn’t really in your plans for the weekend. And as expected, neither was she enthusiastic about it as she put up a fight the moment water came in contact with fur. 

“Stop being fussy! The faster this is over with, the better it will be for the both of us.” You warned and tsked when she growled lowly, “I can’t take you seriously like this, you look like a wet mop.”

_ A loud crash resonated in the house followed by a curse and a low meow. _

_ “Everything okay in there?” You shouted from your comfortable spot on the couch. _

_ “Peachy!” Came Bucky’s muffled response from the bathroom. _

_ A few minutes went by without any other noises being heard until another crash startled you. _

_ “Bucky?” _

_ No response. _

_ Discarding yourself from the blanket, you put down your journal on the coffee table and headed for the bathroom.  _

_ “Bucky, I’m coming in.” You said and entered.  _

_ The scene revealed to you was distressingly hilarious, you had expected Bucky might have to get his hand a little wet for deciding to bath Alpine one-armed and on his own but to see him actually sitting in the tub, caging Alpine between his legs for stopping her to flee from his grasp was a sight for sore-eyes. You easily could guess all hell broke loose when she wasn’t in the mood for soaking in bubbles and she made it clear to Bucky she wasn’t all too pleased about it. _

_ “What happened?” You hid your smile behind your hand, faking a gasp. _

_ “She knocked the bottles off the shelf and I lost my grip on the showerhead,” Bucky said, his wet hair falling into his eyes.  _

_ “Are you sure she’s not washing  _ you _?” You bit your lip now, unable to contain your laughter any longer. _

_ “Whose side are you on, Doll?” _

_ “Sorry, but you gotta admit, the sudden wet t-shirt contest is a major turn of event that makes me vouch for Alpine there.”  _

_ Bucky’s groan echoed at the same time Alpine let out another hoarse meow, still trapped between Bucky’s thighs. _

_ “Need a hand?” You asked and the unimpressed look Bucky gave you was reason enough for you to double over with amusement. _

_ You and Bucky made a quick affair of rinsing a now cold and trembling Alpine. Bucky held the showerhead and you rubbed the soap out of her fur, she attempted another escape but this time you caught her in a fluffy towel, wrapping her in a warm cocoon. _

_ Shuffling through the closet to grab clean clothes for Bucky, he was already standing in his underwear and toweling his hair dry when you left the spare clothes on the marble counter.  _

_ “Enjoying the view?” Of course he would know you’d be staring even if his sight was obstructed. _

_ “What do you think?” You answered not all so subtly.  _

_ “Wanna watch me change too or are you going to pretend to have a little bit of shame and leave me some privacy?”  _

_ You glanced down at Alpine and to your surprise, found her asleep in the confine of the towel, too warm and unbothered.  _

_ “Alpine’s sleeping.”  _

_ Bucky removed the towel from his face, “Then we should let her sleep.” _

_ “There’s an unspoken rule saying that when a child is asleep, it’s time for the parents to have fun.” You said and Bucky slowly raised his head in your direction, “Are you going to stand around here all day like a wet puppy or are you going to take me to bed?” _

_ Later on, it ended with Bucky taking a second shower that day. _

Fortunately for you, today Alpine had needed to have only her paws washed. It took a lot less effort and imagination to restrain her in the tub and the deed was done faster than you had imagined. You let her leave paw prints all around the house, not really caring about the state of the already dirty house. Only the front of your shirt had received water damages and you laid your suitcase atop the kitchen table, searching for your clothes for the night. But a bulb lighted up above your head as the memory of that comical day played behind your eyelids. 

Abandoning your suitcase for the forgotten closet in the bedroom, the clothes folded and hanged inside had been spared from the years of accumulated dust outside. You picked a shirt at random on Bucky’s side and buried your nose in the fabric, inhaling the very faint but unmistakable scent of Bucky it once possessed. Leaving your wet shirt on the floor, you put on the plain white t-shirt, the bottom hanging low and loose on your hips and one of the sleeves had been cute to leave room for a metal shoulder and stump.

The t-shirt was supposed to be dry, had been dry, but now a couple of wet stains were tainting the fabric from unwanted tears you couldn’t hold any longer. You knew it was coming, you prepared yourself for the downfall, but it hurt nonetheless. 

Your knees gave out and you slid on the floor, sitting on quivering legs and with your back against the bed. You let flow of the tears free, it wouldn’t help to keep them locked inside, begging for sorrow’s hold to release you. 

It was dark when you stopped sobbing, how long exactly it had been was a mystery but you couldn’t bring yourself to stand. Alpine had water and food, you made sure of that the moment you arrived after a long flight so she didn’t need to be taken care of. There was no need to move, there was nothing that was urgent enough to make you stand up, there was simply no reason for you to do anything but allow yourself to be overwhelmed for the first time in the last couple of years. You had been strong, relentlessly so, not a single crack visible to anyone who was paying the minimum amount of attention to you. The skill was embedded deeply within you now but you also happened to be entirely alone for the first time since Bucky was gone, there was no point in lying to yourself when you knew better.

You sniffled and patted your jean’s pockets in hopes to find a tissue. When you came out empty-handed, you looked through the drawer of the nightstand next to you instead but your hand bumped with something else and you slipped it out. Perplexed, you stared at the folded piece of paper and carefully, you opened it to expose its secret to you. A secret you knew, a secret you had done with your own hand it turned out, as the old and childish drawing of Bucky you once made at the Bartons’ place stared right back at you.

You let out a ragged, broken gasp. You took it as a sign, finding the sketch now was only a mock stunt to play with your feelings. There was no coincidence, you had stopped believing in those for a long time now and you fought the urge to destroy it, to crush it into a tight ball in your fist and throw it across the room.

“What do you want from me, Bucky? I can’t do this anymore!” You screamed at the drawing, “My heart is broken already, I can’t go on living this way but I can’t go back the way I came.” Angrily wiping the tears from your eyes, your mind was almost waiting for the drawing to voice an answer to you. Grief and resentment blurring together. “Let me go. Please, you have to. I’m so ashamed of this fear that I will never find a way to heal my soul without you, and I can’t keep wandering with so much emptiness. I’m facing the pain now, and it’s a grinning fucking monster, laughing at my expense and I’m  _ so  _ tired. I’m so tired, Bucky.”

Your last words were barely above a whisper as you said them. There was a bitter relief as you finally said the words aloud, the sentiment kept buried for so long was now ten times stronger and devastating as it dangled tauntingly in front of you.

You didn’t register the moment your exhausted body failed you, weariness overtaking you without warning as you cried yourself to sleep on the floor of your old bedroom. The drawing resting in the palm of your hand, still.

* * *

Something sticky and rough licked the tip in your nose as you slowly woke. It took you a minute to properly open your eyes, the tears having sealed them shut during the night. 

“What’s up, girl?” You rasped, pushing away Alpine’s face and nosy tongue from your face. “Humans can sleep on the floor, too.” 

Sitting on your elbow, you moaned at the deep ache now coursing through your tense body. You rubbed the sleep and dried tears from your eyes and let out a yawn, how long has it been since you last ate food? You couldn’t remember. 

You were a mess. 

As if on cue, your stomach growled loudly and you decided it was time to get off your ass. 

Having not thought so far ahead, you risked a glance inside the fridge, ready to be met with empty shelves but what you found there instead was a stack of fresh food and bottled drinks with a sticky note from Okoye attached. You thanked her profusely via a text and started to assemble a sandwich together.

Getting out of the shower next, you inadvertently stepped on the drawing half hidden under the bed. Bending over to retrieve it, an ultimatum bloomed in your head: keeping it or throwing it away.

You gingerly sat down on the couch, rolling your neck as the sore muscles still hated you for the night spent on the floor, and sighed at the form of crayon-colored Bucky. You read over and over again the words you wrote a lifetime ago:

_ A Good Man _ _   
_ _ The best one I’ve ever met _ _   
_ _ Yours, Y/N _

And to this day, you still believed it hardently. It wasn’t a lie, and it never was written to sugar-coat Bucky’s torn feelings about the fact, but only the truth. Your truth. 

You got your phone out and clicked on Tony’s name. 

>> _ is your proposition to use the jet still available? _

>> _ yeah why _ _   
_ _ i could get happy in the air within 1 h _ _   
_ _ homesick already? _

>> _ just finished my business here earlier than I thought _

Your hand hovered over the paper for a second, your mind dancing back and forth between two ideas. When you settled on one, you folded the sketch back into a square and softly dropped it between yours and Bucky’s pillows on the bed, the image of it reflecting a body resting atop the covers peacefully.

“I denied it all so long.” You said to yourself, to the drawing, to the ghost of Bucky chasing you. “I love you but I have to say goodbye, now. Sweet sleep, my angel.” 

Alpine came rubbing her face at your feet, meowing for attention, and also begging for lunch. It put the first genuine smile on your lips since your arrival in Wakanda and her intervention sparked another thought. 

_ >> oh and I’m bringing a surprise _

Happy’s resigned yet reluctant face at seeing your new traveling companion had been already funny, you knew without a doubt he had been subjected to way worse in his dozen-odd years at being Tony’s employee and friend. 

But the cherry on the cake was Tony’s reaction when you brought Stevie the goat on a leash and at home with you, you wished you could have captured the very moment his face fell to relive it forever, play it backward then forward on a loop on morose, rainy days. 

“That’s the surprise?” He pointed to the goat, which bleated in response. 

“Yep.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

“Y/N.”

“Tony.” 

“How does it feel, Tony?” Happy asked, getting the jet ready to go again. “To live with someone who has stupider ideas than you for once?”

“I feel like I need to call Pepper and apologize.”

“You’re years late but she would appreciate it. Make sure she would be recording the conversation.” Happy snickered and slid his sunglasses on his nose. “Until next time.” 

“Thanks, Happy. I owe you one!” You said and he simply waved at you dismissively.

“Not like I had my agenda full.” 

Stevie bleated.

“So, where’s Steve?”

“He’s picking up the Christmas tree-- Are we really going to pretend this is normal?” Tony said.

“We’re finally getting a tree? About time.” You softly tugged on the leash and the goat followed after you. “By the way, I’m borrowing the shed until we build fences for Stevie.”

“...So, we’re not going to talk about it.”

Steve arrived less than thirty minutes later wrapped in a thick wool scarf that barely allowed to get a proper view of his cheeks turning pink by the cold and his hair covered in pine needles. 

“You’re home early, Y/N.”

“Not going to bombard me with questions? That’s a first.” You raised a brow, taking another sip of your mulled wine.

Steve studied you until he seemed satisfied with what he found. “That will come later, I have a tree that needs decorating first.”

“Steve--” Tony said.

“Let’s go get this big boy.” You said, covering Tony’s voice

“Steve--”

“Where do you want it?” Steve asked. “I thought by the fireplace would look good, you could take Alpine’s tree upstairs for the time being.” 

“Rogers--”

“Speaking of which, we’ll need to secure the tree somehow. Alpine’s gonna get her paws on it and I don’t want pine needles all over the carpet.”

“There’s a goat in the backyard and nobody seems all too bothered by the fact or is it just me?!” Tony said, planting himself between you and Steve.

“What did you say?” Steve frowned.

“Of course.” Tony turned to you. “You didn’t tell him.”

You bit your lip, shrugging nonchalantly. 

“Stev-- The  _ goat  _ is here?” Steve gaped.

“Ah-ah! You almost said it!” You cheered and opened the back door giving directly to Stevie munching on grass, the leash attached to the most robust tree you could find nearby.

“How…?” 

“I just couldn’t leave without him. And we’ve got space for him, he’s low maintenance.” You gave a look to Tony and he glared in response.

“She bribed Happy.” Tony told Steve.

“Couldn’t be the most unusual thing he’s seen.” Steve said.

“That’s exactly what I said!” You laughed.

“So, how do the logistics work here?” 

“First,” You answered Steve’s question. “We’re gonna build a fence, give him a place large enough he will self-sustain on grass and that connects to the shed for cold winter nights--”

“I didn’t say I’d give up the shed.” Tony retorted.

“Second, Tony is smart enough to build himself a new shed while I will take care of Stevie and you won’t even notice his presence.” 

Steve placed his hands on his hips and you were waiting for a scowl but what you got instead were honest-to-God  _ giggles _ .

“Are you  _ laughing _ ?” Tony asked incredulously, almost offended.

“She just stole a goat from Wakanda, Tony.” Steve laughed harder, holding his stomach.

“And it’s in our yard now!”

“I give you a week before you befriend him, Tony.” Steve said. “Just like you did with Alpine.”

Tony raised his hands in surrender and went sulking in another room, making sure you heard all of his angry mumbling on his way out. Lucky for you, Steve was the one with the muscles to pick up the tree and drag it in the living room and as suggested, you stored Alpine’s tree upstairs for the next couple of weeks.

Tony came back shortly after that, he brought three cups of mulled wine with him as peace offerings and you asked FRIDAY to play some Christmas music. Tony and Steve fought to have the upper hand but Tony relented first, leaving Steve to choose music he used to listen to with his mother at this time of the year. Hearing Steve hum along the old songs was endearing, Tony was mostly directing the two of you from the couch, Alpine in his lap, while you put ornaments and tinsels all around the seven foot tall Norway Spruce.

“Wait,” You said at one point during the evening. “Is this normal to have solely red and gold ornaments?”

“Those are the colors of Christmas,” Tony lied.

“There’s missing green.” Steve said.

“And blue.”

“Must have slipped my mind.” Tony answered offhandedly.

“You liar,” You said loudly, “You should put an Iron Man helmet on top while you’re at it, being the star you are, shining bright and--”

A song you knew all too well started playing, stopping you short.

_ They say that falling love is wonderful _ _   
_ _ It's wonderful, so they say _ _   
_ _ And with the moon up above, it's wonderful _ _   
_ _ It's wonderful, so they tell me _

No, please. Not this one.

“Y/N?” Steve asked worryingly.

_ I can't recall who said it _ _   
_ _ I know I've never read it _ _   
_ _ I only know they tell me that love is grand, and _ _   
_ _ The thing that's known as romance _ _   
_ _ Is wonderful, wonderful _ _   
_ _ In every way, so they say _

Flashes of that evening in your first house with Bucky, dancing drunk outside and soon soaking wet under the moon came flooding your memory. Then later, on your way to Berlin, enjoying one last car ride before everything came crashing to an abrupt end.

_ To leave your house some morning _ _   
_ _ And without any warning, you're stopping people _ _   
_ _ Shouting that love is grand, and _ __   
_ To hold a man in your arms is wonderful, wonderful _ _   
_ __ In every way, so they say

Shaking your head when the song ended, you swallowed thickly and blinked a couple of times to bring you back to the present moment. The Bucky from your memory faded to let place to a very real Steve standing before you with a concerned look on his face.

“Where did you go? We lost you for a moment.” 

“Sorry, it’s just-- the song. Triggered some memories.” You smiled tightly. “It’s nothing. I’m okay.”

“Do you want to stop? We can finish for you.” Steve offered.

“Hell, no. It’s my moment, too.  _ Our  _ moment.”

You drowned the flashback with more mulled wine and swayed on your feet when Steve handed you the star to place atop the tree.

“No, you do it.” You pushed away his hand.

“Just take it, Y/N.”

“Fine,” You grabbed the star and it was heavier than you initially thought it would be. Blinking stupidly at it, you furrowed your brows when you noticed the color.

“What’s going on?” Tony asked.

“It’s… red.” 

“We know.” Steve whispered and you looked up, even more confused.

“Oh, you guys.” You heaved a sigh, realization coloring your face. “You did it on purpose.”

“We can’t give you the real deal, but we thought it would mean something to you.” Steve said. “Part of him is with us.” 

“I still have a couple of Iron Man helmets we can take instead if it’s too much for you.” Tony said, half joking.

“It’s okay,” Your voice wavered, the gesture immensely symbolic for you. “Thank you.”

You sized up the tree and after a few seconds trying to figure out to get there, Steve crouched beside you and patted his shoulder. “Come here, I’ll help.” 

Leaning against his shoulder, it took little to no effort for Steve to lift you up and balance your weight on his shoulder. You easily reached the highest branch that way and gently, oh so softly set the red star on it. The polished shine of the material reflected brightly and it made you smile. That red star had always been bad omens in Bucky’s life but with time, it had been a symbol of hope for you, images of Annie painting a sloppy red star on her own arm a great example of how one’s weakness could be turned into one’s force and willpower.

Steve put you down and you let out a wet chuckle, pressing the heel of your hands in your eyes. 

“I think the tree’s done” Tony said, “Our first Christmas tree.”

“Oh, don’t move. Be right back,” You ran upstairs and grabbed the polaroid from your desk.

You apologised to Alpine who was dozing on the couch and scooped her up in your arms. You quickly adjusted the timer and found a perfect spot on the shelf facing the tree where the camera fit. Joining the boys again, you squeezed yourself between the two men, holding Alpine tightly against your chest and waited for the picture to be taken a second later.

Waving back and forth the blank picture, you all patiently waited for the colors to form and unveil the photograph behind them. When it finally came into view, you grinned and showed it to Steve and Tony who share the same fond sentiment toward it.

Later that evening, after Tony hanged customised stockings with your names on it above the chimney, and he and Steve went to bed, you fell asleep to the television playing newsreels of the second World War, the ones you knew by heart but still brought you comfort, and woke up with it turned off and a blanket draped on you body.

Disoriented, you pushed the covers aside and sat up, murmuring an apology to Alpine who was snuggled against your belly. Your heart was beating insanely too fast in your ribcage for somebody who had just woken up and your best guess was the residues of a nightmare still lingering being the cause.

You wrapped the blanket around your shoulders and headed out. You sat down on the rock facing the familiar oak tree and inhaled slowly, held it for a few seconds and then exhaled through your nose. The freezing December air helped numb your mind and you looked up to the stars, counting them until you lost count.

Footsteps approached, breaking you from your reveries, and you turned your head when a rustling sound was dangerously close to you.

“Mind if I join you?” Steve said and you shook your head.

The two of you stayed silent for a long time, the need to speak inexistent for a while even if you knew Steve was burning with questions.

So you decided to beat him to it and spoke first. “Can I ask you a question, Steve?”

“Sure.”

“And I want you to answer me truthfully. I will know if you lie, you’re a terrible liar.” 

“Fair enough.” He said, an amused smile stretching on his lips.

You wrapped the blanket tighter around you and observed him, studying his profil until you were ready to hear his answer.

“Are you happy?”

Steve blinked in surprise and his jaw clenched. You watched the muscles there move and then relax. 

“That’s a difficult question.”

“You can say yes, Steve. As I said, I want an honest answer. I want to know how you feel.”

Steve stayed quiet a moment longer.

“Considering everything that had happened and where we are today, how we came to be here and how it is going...”

“So is it a yes or a no.” You pressed.

“Yes.” Steve confessed. “Yes, I’m happy.”

You smiled. “Then I’m happy if you’re happy.” 

“I want us to be happy.”

“I’m getting there. One step at a time but I’m getting there.”

“Can I ask something in return?”

“You can.” You said.

“What happened today to make you come back so soon?”

“I let him go.” You said quietly, your eyes flickering the tree in front of you, “I begged him to release me. I can’t be held captive by his ghost forever, that’s why I went to Wakanda.”

“To say goodbye.” Steve finished for you.

“I will always love him, nobody will fill that vacant place in my heart but it’s time I got closure.”

“I understand. When I got him back, he was taken away from me again. It hurt. At least I know he was alright with you.”

“I would do so many things differently now, if I had the chance.” You said.

“Don’t go there.” Steve grabbed your hand and squeezed it. “We aren’t giving up on him. We’ll always miss him, soon it’s going to be five years and there’s only so little left you can do to cling onto him now, you’ve done so much. Do you realize all the energy and parts of yourself you gave up for  _ him _ ? You can’t keep doing this, it will kill you and I can’t let you do this to yourself.”

“Thank you, Steve.” You dropped your head to his shoulder, the weight you’d been carrying for years gradually lifting off your shoulders. “I needed to hear this.” 

“We love you, Y/N. Tony, you and I, we’re a family.”

“And Alpine and Stevie.”

“And Alpine… and Stevie.” Steve repeated.

“You finally said it!” You chuckled and Steve groaned.

“Don’t tell Tony.”

“I promise,” You said. “But you can’t reverse back to ‘the goat’, he’s got a name.” 

“I’m not going to address him at all, then.” 

You laughed again, your heart feeling lighter and fuller at the same time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hang in there everyone, we’re almost there... Finally seeing familiar faces again in the next chapter, I hope you all are ready!


	6. 2023: Hoping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to update early as a gift to celebrate Bucky’s birthday today. Happy birthday old man! (It’s also the reader and Bucky’s wedding anniversary so happy anniversary to them as well eheh)
> 
> Also you may or may not have noticed but I keep adding chapters to the fic, reason being: I am currently in the process of splitting the last 40k words of this story as evenly as possible so it will have 9 chapters instead of 6 resulting in me inadvertently and partially lying to you concerning the come back of familiar faces... But!!! Enjoy a little cameo of someone very special before the big battle...

After coming back from Wakanda, you directly went to speak to Natasha. At first, she was taken aback about your desire to take a sabbatical but after a long year wearing your heart on your sleeve for others, you needed that self-love to get to know the person you had become. When your lengthy and in-depth explanation was over, she surprised you in return when she herself confessed about wanting to come back to the compound half the year and the other half would still be dedicated to the orphanage. It was a difficult decision for the both of you but you would make it work. 

The hardest part in all this was to notify Annie of your sudden departure. 

She didn’t take it well.

You held her while her sobs gradually shifted into sniffles but you promised her one thing: you would never abandon her. It was only a break from working here and it wouldn’t change the nature of your relationship.

At home, when you told Tony to build another shed, you didn’t expect him to create a monster. It had occupied him for a few weeks, keeping him busy and therefore, leaving you and Steve to enjoy afternoons together. Some days were dedicated to cooking, some days cleaning, and some other days were spent doing nothing more than sitting on the couch and helping Steve to thoroughly catch up with the twenty-first century. Talking about music, art, movies and answering his last remaining questions. 

The shelves were heavy and full of books, mostly autobiographies and non-fiction for Steve, fantasy and science-fiction for you and Tony, well, there wasn’t a book that didn’t display the word ‘engineering’ or ‘machine’ in the title.

It was peaceful, you felt calm from the inside out. You could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel.

So, of course when Natasha uncharastically showed up one morning with Scott Lang in tow, which you very clearly remembered had disappeared at the same time of the snap and never to be seen again, you started questioning the reality of your world.

You hadn’t even left for an entire hour. It was barely fifty minutes of picking up groceries, a return trip you did every week and could perform blind but seeing Scott sitting on your porch was a slap in your face.

You parked the car next to the black Audi, Natasha’s car, and killed the engine. You risked a glance in their direction and four pairs of eyes were indeed anticipating your presence. Steve in particular, as he was the only one on his feet, a serious and unreadable expression already on his face. 

“Um, hi. Scott, right?” You drew out your hand toward him.

“That’s right, hey. Sorry to barge in on you but we have important news.” He said as he shook your hand for longer than necessary.

“Where were you all this time? We thought you were part of the people who vanished.”

“Long story.” Tony cut in, “And they were on their way out.”

“Tony, she deserves to know.” Natasha said firmly.

“What do I need to know?”

“There’s nothing to know except that it could be dangerous, stupid and in which giddy optimism won’t solve alone. It’s like building something on moving sand, it would be highly unstable, unpredictable and we could even possibly get killed if not derail the course of our present.” Tony said and then pinched the bridge of his nose, “I’m sorry, I won’t be partaking in our collective demise.”

“I survived!” Scott said. “I came home. Late, but my partner wasn’t here to push the button anymore. You would.”

“Sorry.” You stopped him, “I’m confused. What are you talking about?”

“Scott wants to travel back in time to steal--”

“ _ Borrow _ .” Scott insisted.

“—The stones and reverse back Thanos’ snap.” Steve finished and waited for your reaction.

“Like what, Back To The Future?” You asked skeptically.

“Exactly!” said Scott in sync with Tony’s “Christ.”

“A time heist would be our only chance.” Natasha whispered.

“We can snap our own fingers. We can bring everyone back.” Scott said and you instantly felt dizzy at his words.

Steve grabbed your elbow when you swayed and almost crashed against the window, bile rised up your throat and black spots started to appear in your line of vision. Natasha sprung on her feet and pushed you down on her chair in a sitting position as you felt her press a glass in your hand.

“I’m fine, I’m okay. Stop fussing.” You gently swatted Steve’s hand away and you took a minute to compose your thoughts. “Why don’t you start telling how you came back and why your experience with it would affect the other’s disappearances?”

Scott used the word “quantum” precisely twenty-three times during his speech and you kind of lost track of the amount of science gibberish he threw at you, used by now of Tony’s own language when he was excited by a new project, but all you made out from it was the possibility of screwing up your current timeline to bring everyone back.

Something infinitely small burgeoned low within yourself, something hopeful and naive but for the first time in five years, you let it overcome you. 

“How soon can we make that happen? The heist, I mean.” You asked.

“That’s why we’re here, I need somebody else’s expertise to combine with mine to make it happen. I can’t do it by myself.” Scott answered, looking at Tony.

“No.” Tony shook his head.

Scott huffed in annoyance. “Now we have a chance to bring them back. To bring everyone back. And you're telling me that you won't even--”

“That's right, Scott, I won't even.”

“Tony... We have to take a stand.” Natasha spoke up.

“This is a second chance.” Steve told him, backing up Natasha.

The rest of the day was tense at home, Tony and Steve refused to talk to each other, both too proud to use words and tone down the suffocating atmosphere that reigned. Tony locked himself in his shed and Steve in his art studio, leaving you to deal with your feelings about the matter on your own.

You didn’t blame either of them. You could understand Tony’s reluctance at the possibility of losing the life he had always wanted and you could understand Steve’s desire to give it a shot nonetheless. They were two sides of the same coin and you were waiting for it to drop to see which side would win.

You cooked for them that evening, bringing their dinner in their respective spaces and while they didn’t hold any grudges against you, they remained cold and lost in their own heads as they barely acknowledged you.

It was a rare occurrence to hear them raise their voices at the other, you could count on one hand the times a  _ real  _ fight took place between them but tonight, as the yelling grew crescendo, you knew better than to try playing the buffer. The sound of a door slammed shut echoed in the house, the walls threatening to crumble by the force of it and you guessed Steve had lost that fight for the second time that day.

You tossed and turned for hours in your bed, your mind reeling and going places you had not gone for a long, long time. Those were still in here somewhere, carried within yourself but never to be visited again because once you let the content borned inside out, it was too late to try putting it back where it belonged. 

Sleep wouldn’t come if you didn’t have a solid confirmation the hope was but vain, your hand patiently waiting on the doorknob of your eager subconscious, just a movement away from pulling it open. 

It was late, actually considered early if you were being honest, when you came looking for Tony. There was only a very small chance he was asleep either passed out on the couch or in his lab but what you found instead was Tony tinkering on a hologram above the kitchen table, too engrossed with it to notice your presence.

_ “Just a moment.” _ FRIDAY said quietly.

“And don't worry if it doesn't pan out. I'm just kinda--” 

_ “Model rendered.” _ She announced, you could swore you heard a hint of pride in her synthesised voice.

In a complete shock, you saw the render come back as 99.987% successful and Tony failed back, bewildered by this discovery.

“Shit!” He uttered, still not processing the model projected in front him.

“Tony?” You murmured. “What are you doing?”

Tony startled minutely, turning to you with wide eyes.

“Call Natasha, tell Scott I figured it out. I’m going to wake Steve.”

And just like that, as terrifying and amazing it was, the door inside your mind flew wide open. 

——

Bruce was fiddling with buttons on a panel when you entered the compound alongside Steve and Tony. Scott was in his Ant-Man costume in front of his van, with the back open to show the Quantum Tunnel. Natasha was standing beside Bruce with a clipboard in hands.

“Let me guess,” Tony told the trio, “Couldn’t wait for me and he turned into a baby.”

“Yeah, something like that…” Bruce said.

Except Bruce wasn’t Bruce, and he wasn’t Hulk either. He was both and neither, and you were curious and horrified at the same time at the sight of Hulk having Bruce’s features who wasn’t busy smashing a single thing in the room.

“We got a shot at getting these stones, but I gotta tell you my priorities.” Tony said. “Bring back what we lost? I hope, yes. Keep what I got? I have to, at all costs. And... maybe not die trying will be nice.” He held up his hand to show them the device circling his palm. “A fully functioning Time-Space GPS.”

“Why did you do it?” Scott asked, removing his helmet. “Not that we’re complaining but you were pretty set on your decision the other day.”

“Spite, mostly.” 

Steve cleared his throat loudly.

“And because I believe in a change of heart and growth. I lost someone important to me, too, Lang.”

The kid. Peter. It became clearer to you now, Tony’s guilt at not being able to save Peter must have gotten to him not to mention resentment toward Steve always had been corrosive to him and there was no way on Earth they would stay mad at the other for too long.

“So,” Tony continued, “We are getting the whole team, yeah?”

“We're working on that right now.” Natasha replied and smiled. “But with you on board, it’s going to be faster.”

“When do we start?” You asked, impatient and ready. 

“First,” Steve said, “We need what’s left of said team to bring back the rest of it.”

——

“Time travel suit?” Rhodey asked. “Not bad.”

You were leaning against the doorway, watching Scott get ready for the first Time Travel test run. Bruce picked a small red tub containing Pym particles and slipped it carefully in one of Scott’s pockets.

“Hey, hey, hey! Easy!” Scott warned Bruce. 

You could see how on edge the two men were from here.

“I'm being very careful.” 

“No, you're being very Hulky.”

“I'm being  _ careful _ .”

“You’re overreacting, Scott. Bruce didn’t break or drop it, just take a chill pill.” You said, you were getting irritated by the minute as well. 

“Scott, calm down.” Rhodey approached him, trying to ease the situation.

“Sorry. We've got enough for one round trip each. That's it. No do-overs. Plus two test runs.” Scott accidentally pressed a button, triggering the mechanism as he shrunk then grew back to his normal size immediately after. “...One test run.”

You rolled your eyes.

“All right. I'm not ready for this.“ 

“Yeah, no shit, Scott. Get out of here, I’ll do it.” You pressed, already walking toward him with your mind set.

“Are you sure?” Bruce asked.

“Yes. Let’s roll.”

A few minutes later, you walked in wearing the suit Scott was wearing moments before and took position on the platform. All eyes were on you, both hopeful and worried for you and your percentage of coming back in one piece and above all, successful. 

“Y/N, now you're gonna feel a little discombobulated from the chronoshift. Don't worry about it.” Bruce told you, activating something on the panel.

“Okay,” You answered. 

You took a deep breath, cooling yourself and you clenched your fists, standing straight and tall. The anxiety was twisting your stomach but now wasn’t the time to throw up in front of everybody. You saw Steve give you a thumb up from below and you answered it with a smile. 

“Alright, we're going in three... two... one!”

A transparent helmet popped up on your face and you were gone. In a matter of seconds, you flew through the quantum realm and into an opening. Your body grew back to normal size as you landed in a different place, and seemingly, time.

Something felt off the instant you opened your eyes. Wherever Bruce had intended to throw you in, you sure hadn’t expected to be decades ago. The smell, color, atmosphere, everything was light years away from your world. Uncle Sam was plastered on every building, windows and lamp post and you wondered exactly how far back you had gone.

Wandering aimlessly in the streets as you fiddled with the monitor on your forearm, silently pleading for it not to be broken, you bumped into someone’s shoulder. The sudden shock of the collision threw you off balance and you would have collapsed on the dirty pavement if it wasn’t for a strong pair of arms catching you mid-fall.

“You okay, Doll?”

The apology died on your tongue as you gazed into a very familiar yet noticeably different face.

The Bucky standing toe to toe with you was clad in his military uniform, hugging a much more slender and thinner body you once knew. He looked healthier than in the newsreels, less tired, and extremely less haunted than  _ your  _ Bucky, your husband. The one with shadows under his eyes and in his brain, the one with a metal arm and long, messy hair and stubble, the one who’s lips could barely form a smile as he had forgotten how to make one for seventy years. It was like seeing a positive after seeing the negative first. 

You sucked in a breath, stunned, and opened and closed your mouth a couple of times, at loss of words.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Bucky from the past said.

That voice. Even his voice sounded different, lighter and at least an octave higher.

“Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” 

“And where  _ exactly  _ were you going?” 

Shameless, this Bucky was a brighter and sharper flirt.

“Stark Expo,” You blurted out.

“Well, that explains the outfit.”

“You don’t like the future?”

“Oh, I’m an optimistic man, I have both arms open for it.” He said and that made you swallow thickly. “Hey, by any chance, have you seen a small fella with dirty blond hair who likes to have his ass handed to him by guys twice his size in narrow back alleys?”

Oh, Steve, historical reports weren’t lying about you, after all.

“I’m afraid not, he sounds like delightful company.”

“Yeah, well, what else is new. He’s my best friend, haven’t told him yet I’m being drafted soon.” He smiled sadly. “I’m bringing him to the Expo tonight to celebrate, actually. We could meet later.”

The smirk on his face was the definition of a man determined to promise you a good time. You just wished it wasn’t in back alleys too.

“Maybe next time, Sergeant.”

Bucky chuckled and yielded, taking a couple of steps back. “Be careful, Doll. I already have my arms full as it is, I can't have a pretty girl falling right into them when I have to save my jerk of best-friend already every two days from his own stupidity.”

He adjusted his peaked cap and winked at you. When he was about to part ways, you stepped toward him.

“Wait!” You stopped him, “I know it will sound like an odd request and you absolutely don’t have to accept but you look like somebody I lost. I was wondering if I could... hug you?”

The demand made him raise his brows in surprise but he didn’t seem very put off.

“He died in the war?” He asked.

“Something like that.” You answered vaguely and he looked satisfied enough with the answer.

Bucky pulled you in a hug without hesitation or second thoughts. The familiar smell and shape of his body hit you square in the chest and you started to tear up, feeling how tight Bucky was hugging you and how exactly you used to like it. You always had fitted so nicely in his arms, that feeling of safety enveloping you like a warm cocoon. You gripped the back of his jacket and burrowed deeper in the embrance, unwilling to let go just yet. Bucky let you take what you needed from the hug, content to press you against him as your two bodies slotted together into one. 

Eventually, you untangled your arms from him and mourned the loss of his warmth right away.

“Thank you.” You said sincerely, repeating that it wasn’t your Bucky over and over again in your head until the words wouldn’t mean anything. “Take care of yourself out there, it’s going to be rougher than you think.”

Bucky straightened and gave you a performative salute accompanied by a “yes ma’am”. Grinning, that thousand watts smile was intoxicating and you found yourself mirroring it as you bowed your head. He walked away only to turn back to you without stopping in his tracks to wave goodbye, feeling your heart seize in your chest as you watched him depart.

“Buc--” You were about to say his name, risking the word out of your mouth when you abruptly got pulled back into the present.

The air got knocked out of your lungs, the helmet popped off your face and you couldn’t find a way to breathe properly. Falling to your knees, you cried out in pain but not the physical kind, the kind that felt like your heart was being ripped out of your chest again and there was nothing you could do but bleed out without batting an eyelash about it.

“Pull me back!” You shouted. “Please,  _ please _ , pull me back!” 

“Hey, Y/N. You’re alright, you’re safe. What happened?” Steve jumped on the platform and crouched beside you.

“You have to pull me back.” You stubbornly fought back tears. 

“Where were you?” Tony materialised close to Steve, equal concern coloring his face.

“I was with him.” You said, breathless. “I was with  _ Bucky _ .”

“That can’t be, you were supposed to be sent back less than three months ago.”

“No, not  _ my  _ Bucky. The one from-- from  _ before _ .”

Silence fell in the room and Tony rose up.

“What did you do, Bruce? Show me the calibrations.” Tony pressed a few buttons and looked up at Bruce furiously, “You didn’t send her eighty days in the past, but eighty years, you giant moron!”

“I miscalculated, okay? I’m sorry, it still needs to be improved.”

“The machine’s working perfectly fine, Banner. You just screwed the pooch big time, my friend.”

“Is she going to be okay?” Bruce asked, worriedly looking at you still down on your knees. 

“You messed with her feelings, Bruce. It’s going to take time.” Natasha told him.

“Suffice to say, it worked.” You said not unkindly but not on the warm side, either. “Next time, a heads-up would be nice, Bruce.” 

“Sorry, sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“I’m okay,” You ignored Natasha’s outstretched hand and stood up slowly. “I just need a moment. Alone.”

The self-rehabilitation you worked on for so long got shattered in a matter of minutes, mere  _ seconds  _ for the rest of the team, leaving you raw and vulnerable again. Talk about a return trip. You would have chosen memory lane or a vivid nightmare any day, would even have let Wanda mess with your head had she been there.

This wasn’t on the program, you hadn’t prepared yourself for this scenario, didn’t even consider it. This was a cocktail of concentrated agony not only because, of all people, you had stumbled upon Bucky in the flesh, but also because you were there right before his downfall. You had watched him, powerless, knowing he would go like a lamb to slaughter.

"I could have saved him," You said quietly a couple of hours later, sitting with your legs tucked underneath you on the couch. "He was right here, carefree and so young, and I did nothing to help him."

"And thank God you didn't," Rhodey said, munching on some takeaway leftovers. 

"Y/N, I'm not sure you understand how fatal it is for the fate of the universe that you shouldn't mess with the past," Tony cut in. "it's already bad as it is that he saw you and let alone, hugged you." 

"Let's not forget Bucky's brainwashing, an idle moment like this isn't something he would remember after seventy years spent under… Shock treatment." Steve pondered upon. 

"We can just hope for the best. I know everyone here is eager and desperately clutching on our last shreds of hope but we need to stay focused." Tony looked at you. 

"Don't look at me like that, I said I was sorry. I wasn't thinking straight."

"We're gonna need a plan." Nebula suddenly spoke up and everybody got quiet for a second. "If we want the stones, we'll need to figure out when and where they were."

"And build up teams." Rocket nodded in agreement. 

"Divide and conquer." Clint added. 

"Where do we even start?" You asked. 

"I suggest we all take a break tonight and start fresh tomorrow. We all need some rest after what happened today." Rhodey threw you a furtive glance and you groaned. 

"The real work starts tomorrow." Clint said. 

You were the last one to leave the room, Steve had a wary look in his eyes that meant he would keep an eye on you but still leave you space. Sleep was not an option at the moment and you went for a stroll outside, making a stop at the dock that gave an excellent view to the compound and its surroundings. It reminded you of home, the water calming you and the fresh breeze of the night making the water rustle along.

Heading back inside the compound shortly after, not wanting Steve to be your personal search-party and to needlessly worry him, you made a detour to the testing chamber and stood in front of the large platform. Your hand grazed the panel and the dozen different buttons displayed there, the past within arm-reach, so close yet so far away. The Pym Particles were there, too, waiting and stacked in neat rows in the container. All it would take for you was to grab just a single one to correct the mistake that was playing over and over again in your head. 

But at the same time…

“Hey, kid.”

You spinned on your heels, turning to the person the voice belonged to.

“You’re never not going to stop calling me that, aren’t you, Clint?”

“You wouldn’t want to ruin my fun, now.” He smirked and stopped next to you.

“Seems like you had a very different kind of fun, lately.” 

Clint’s face shifted into something darker, somber. “You wanna go there, really?”

“I’m not judging you, Clint, trust me. It’s your business what you did, as a former STRIKE agent, I have no say in this matter.”

“Did you regret any of it?”

“I was STRIKE, never HYDRA even if a lot of people assume that it was the same thing. But yes, I do regret some of it but not all, it did bring me where I am today.”

Clint hummed. “We do have a reputation to collect stray agents, after all.”

“I missed you, man. Each and everyone of you. It feels good to be all together again.” You said and felt Clint’s arm wrap around your shoulders.

“I saw your interview online. It was like seeing someone else.” 

“Speak for yourself,” You teased, “What’s up with the haircut and tattoos, hitting midlife crisis?” 

“Ah ah.” Clint mocked. “Deflecting serious topics with humour, those five years spent with Stark is rotting your brain. I was serious, Y/N. I know how you feel, better than anyone else here. The things I’ve done, it was for them.” Clint gazed at the platform and a chill ran down your spine, not exactly the type of things you would do to bring back Bucky but you did mean it when you said you weren’t judging him. Everybody copped differently, it wasn’t like Clint had been killing innocent people either, after all. 

“We’ll bring them back. Laura, Lila and your sons. Bucky. We have to,” You said, “Because I don’t know how I’ll take a second defeat.”

——

The years spent like a recluse from society had taken a toll on Thor. When he had walked in with a beer belly and long, unkept beard and hair, you had barely recognised the God of Thunder. The man who could yield mightiness like a weapon now reduced to the best mortality could offer: neglect and self-hatred. You knew the two quite well, considered them like acquaintances, and took pity on Thor.

Tony, Steve and Bruce were pacing at the front of the room you all were sitting in around a table, the three men leading the planning of the mission. A holographic display was showcasing each of the six Infinity Stones, the subjects for today’s study. 

Natasha and you were the only ones with notepads while the others were listening. 

“Okay, so the ‘how’ works. Now we gotta figure out the when and the where. Almost all of us has had an encounter with at least one of the six Infinity Stones.” Steve said.

“Well I'd substitute the word encounter for damn well near been killed by one of the six Infinity Stones.” Tony retorted.

“I haven't, I don't even know what the hell you're all talking about.” Scott babbled and you grimaced. You wondered exactly how much he knew since he had spent the last five years in the quantum realm and hadn’t partaken in any fights after Berlin. 

“Hey,” You whispered to Scott, “These guys didn’t explain much to you, did they?”

“I’m a bit… lost, not gonna lie. These sound awesome and scary, you really fought a height feet purple alien?” He muttered back.

“Well, Thanos is much more frightening than those stones, trust me. They were just in the wrong hands. He decided to go all ‘bring your kids to work’ one day to steal them, and a few were on Earth, or just in human hands. So, yeah, he kinda had something against us.”

“How many of you were there?”

“Remember Germany? That was nothing compared to the firepower and manpower we had that day so I can let you imagine how fucking powerful he was.” 

“Wow,” Scott whistled lowly and Tony shot you an impatient glance. 

“Sorry,” You mouthed at him.

“Let's start with the Aether. Thor, what do you know?” Steve said but Thor didn’t budge at the sound of his name, his eyes shielded with sunglasses, probably hungover again.

“Is he asleep?” Natasha asked.

“No,” Rhodey countered, “I’m pretty sure he’s dead.”

“Where to start?” Thor almost slurred, waking up from his nap and finally getting to work. “Umm... The Aether, first, is not a stone, someone called it a stone before. It's more of a... an angry sludge thing, so... someone is gonna need to amend that. Here's an interesting story though, many years ago…”

Your phone pinged in your pocket and this time it was Natasha who nudged you in the ribs. 

“I’m sorry, I have to take this.” You said and quickly excused yourself from the group. “I’m sure I won’t miss much at the rate this is going.”

Natasha didn’t say anything but her lips slightly curving in the ghost of a smirk told you all you needed to know about the situation.

“Hello?” You picked up your phone, closing the door of the office behind you.

“ _ Y/N! How are you? _ ” The familiar high-pitched voice on the other end of the line said, sending you warmth immediately.

“Hey, Annie. I’m good, what about you? What’s up?”

“ _ I’m fine, too. You said you’d call last week but you didn’t. _ ”

Your stomach dropped, disappointed at yourself for forgetting your promise. “I’m so sorry, Annie. I’ve been really busy, Avengers business.”

_ “You’re back at Avenging? That’s so cool! Is Hulk gonna be here? He’s Jordan’s favorite.” _

“Yeah, I am. And Bruce’s here, too.” You smiled at her unguarded excitement. “But you have to keep the secret, alright? I trust you, a lot is at stake here but I can assure you, everything’s gonna be okay.”

You hoped but didn’t want to tell her otherwise.

You let Annie ramble about her day and what she ate, how she had slept and what she dreamt about for a moment before the door of the office opened and Bruce peeked his large and green head out. 

“We need you back inside, Y/N.” 

“One sec’,’ You pointed a finger up and Bruce nodded.

“-- _ And so I told her not to mess with my arm and it took me two hours to wash the ink off of it!” _

“Annie, I have a meeting in a minute. Sorry, little one. I will call you back during the week, okay? I will find some time for you, I promise.”

“ _ Okay _ ,” She said, her saddened voice sent a pang of guilt straight to your heart. “ _ But you have to send pictures of Alpine to make it up to me. _ ”

“That’s a hard bargain you drive there and I have no choice but to accept it.”

You heard a giggle and a smile was back on your face. Quickly saying your goodbyes, you took your seat back in the room and Natasha silently handed her notepad to you and you gratefully thanked her. 

During lunch, your notepad was never very far off. You ate while Rocket was pacing on the table, sharing his load of informations about the Power Stone.

“Quill said he stole the Power Stone from Morag.” Rocket said.

Is that a person?” Scott questioned.

“Morag's a planet. Quill was a person.”

You quickly crossed off Morag from the list of potential suspects who might know where it would be and instead put it in the list of places the stone might be. Good point to make, Scott.

“A planet? Like in outer space?”

“Oh, look. It's like a little puppy, all happy and everything.” Rocket ruffled Scott’s hair like he was a pet. “Do you wanna go to space? You wanna go to space, puppy? I'll get you to space.”

“Stop that, Rocket. Focus.” You threw a napkin in his face.

“Ugh, whatever.”

You hid your amusement behind another mouthful of noodles and Scott and you threw each other a relieved look. 

Turning to a new, blank page, you wrote ‘SOUL STONE’ in capital letters and patiently faced Nebula, pen ready in hand and hovering over your notepad.

“Thanos found the Soul Stone on Vormir.” She said.

“What is Vormir?” Natasha asked beside you, her tone serious and meaning business.

“A dominion of death, at the very center of Celestial existence. It's where... Thanos murdered my sister.”

You froze mid-sentence, an awkward and heavy silence fell in the room as you all looked at each other, not knowing what was the appropriate response to that.

“Noted. Not going to post you over there, then.” You said and reached for your mug, taking a much needed sip of your coffee.

It was well into the night when finally, you reached the last one of the stones. Bruce, Tony, Natasha and you were the sole survivors as you sat behind Tony’s bent knees, your back resting in the crook of his legs, stretching your legs on top of the desk opposite you to give Natasha permission to rest her head on your thighs. Bruce was the only one grounded, having brought a cushion with him and laying on the floor while the three of you found the desk quite comfortable. You were surrounded by old files about the scepter, the cube and other documents and images of the stones, piles and piles of them scattered around the room.

You were rereading your notes on the Mind Stone when Natasha dropped her notepad against her chest.

“That Time Stone guy…”

“Strange something.” You mumbled.

“Doctor Strange.” Bruce corrected.

“Yeah, what kind of doctor was he?” She pressed.

“Ear-nose-throat meets rabbit from a hat.” Tony joked.

“I think he was a surgeon. Not sure what kind. Are you allowed to be called a Doctor when you’re now posing as a magician, though?” You wondered aloud and Tony nodded absentmindedly.

“Nice place in the village, though.” Bruce added, ignoring you.

“Yeah. Sullivan Street.” Tony said.

“If you tell me Baker Street, I’m--” You interjected before Bruce cut in. “Hmm... Bleecker.”

“Wait, he lived in New York?” Natasha said out loud.

“No. He lived in Toronto. Were you even paying attention?” 

“That would have been funny if this was in England. Get it?” You continued your joke. “Baker Street-- Alright, forget it.” You busied yourself with your third coffee of the day instead, begging to have something to occupy your hands that wasn’t a pen for the fifteenth consecutive hour.

“Guys, if you pick the right year,  _ there are three stones in New York.”  _ Natasha finished.

Bruce, Tony and you perked up at the remark, it was like a lightbulb had been turned on above all your heads thanks to Natasha. 

“Shut the front door.” Bruce sat up.

“She’s been paying attention, alright.” You chuckled and the collective sigh of relief heard in the room was deafening and heart-felt.

——

Putting on your suit took longer than necessary when one was shaking from head to toe. Cold sweat clinging on your body, making it harder for you to slip inside smoothly.

Alpine was lazily watching you from your bed, stretching languidly when you said your goodbyes. You would be gone only for a few seconds in her world but you still put enough food and water nearby just in case, just for your peace of mind.

“I will bring him back, Al’. I will bring Bucky back. Remember him, baby?” Alpine meowed softly, purring under your attention. “Of course you would remember him, he was your favorite.” 

Grabbing the polaroid of Bucky on your nightstand, you slid it inside your suit, securing it right against your heart for safekeeping and hoping it will give you the courage and strength for what was ahead.

You kissed Alpine’s little head, that spot right between her ears and shut the door on your way out.

_ I can do this _ , you repeated to yourself. _ I’ve got this. _

In the testing chamber, you walked in line with your friends, your teammates, in direction of the platform. The moment felt solemn, the weight of the universe heavy on your shoulders. 

Bucky was at the forefront of your mind when you stepped on the glass, forming a circle with the team, but you thought about your friends, Annie’s parents, and all of those who were lost in the decimation. You thought about all these people waiting for their special somebody, waiting and wishing for their return the same way you did.

“Five years ago, we lost. All of us. We lost friends... We lost family... We lost a part of ourselves. Today, we have a chance to take it all back. You know your teams, you know your missions. Get the stones, get them back. One round trip each. No mistakes. No do-overs. Most of us are going somewhere we know. But it doesn't mean we should know what to expect. Be careful. Look out for each other. This is the fight of our lives. And we're gonna win.” Steve and Tony exchanged a glance, Steve not taking his off Tony as he continued his speech. “Whatever it takes. Good luck.”

You saw the discreet squeeze Tony gave Steve’s hand and you smiled sadly, thinking about what they were going through themselves, risking what they built together for a greater cause. The parallel between them and what you and Bucky went through not once but twice was too great to ignore. The willingness to put aside a life you had wanted and worked hard to get the moment the world needed you. Bucky had signed up for this in 1943, you had signed up for this upon entering the SHIELD Academy, and together, the selflessness took over your own relationship. 

You averted your eyes, allowing them their last moments of privacy and held up your fist at the center of the circle. Everybody joined you, raising their fists, giving each other a boost of encouragement. Eleven people had the fate of three other billions in their hands.

You took position between Natasha and Steve, Natasha shifted from foot to foot excitedly, eager to be back on active duty.

“See you in a minute.” 

Bruce activated a button on the panel, saying something about tractors being engaged and you were all gone, reduced to atoms in the Quantum Realm, all splitting intervals and going to a different place at a different time and history.

Tony, Steve, Bruce, Scott and you landed eleven years ago in New York, debris of the Chitauri attack littering the ground and buildings half destroyed surrounding you. 

“All right, we all have our assignments. Two Stones uptown, one Stone, down. Stay low. Keep an eye on the clock.” Steve said, already changed in his old uniform.

Hulk from the past passed you by, then, smashing everything on his path. Bruce hid his face behind in hand in pure embarrassment.

“So that’s what you were like in 2012?” You asked, “You look like a child playing in the dirt.”

“Feel free to smash a few things along the way.” Tony told him.

“I think it's gratuitous, but whatever.” Bruce said but tested it out nonetheless, pretending to smash things sarcastically, even making a show of ripping his shirt while making growling noises.

“That’s awkward and very painful to watch,” You said, “Should we go?”

When you were posted inside the Stark Tower before it became the Avengers Tower, wearing your old STRIKE gear in the lobby, you waited for Tony’s recon mission to be done a few dozen floors up. Steve was on some other floor, waiting near an elevator to intercept you and Rumlow’s team as well as Agent Sitwell. Your hands shook with the intensity of the hatred you felt at seeing Rumlow again soon now knowing full well who he was and what he was doing to Bucky.

“ _ Uh, Mr. Rogers. I almost forgot that that suit did nothing for your ass _ .” Tony’s voice echoed in your earpiece and you almost let out a chuckle in the middle of the crowd.

_ “No one asked you to look, Tony _ .” Steve answered

“Tony! For God’s sake,” You said, trying hard to tone down your amusement. “Hurry up, I’m waiting.”

“ _ It's ridiculous _ .” Tony whispered and you knew damn well he was still talking about Steve’s ass.

_ “I think you look great, Cap. As far as I'm concerned, that's America's ass.” _ Scott added and you had to cough to cover up your laugh.

“Boys, please. We can compare asses after this is all done.” 

“ _ Who are these guys?” _ Scott asked.

“ _ They are SHIELD… Well, actually HYDRA. But, we didn't know that yet _ .” Tony said.

“I didn’t know that either.” You whispered.

“ _ What--? Oh, oh. You’re right there, I just saw you, Y/N.” _ Scott said then sputtered, “ _ Seriously, you didn't? I mean… they look like bad guys. No offense, Y/N.” _

“None taken.” You huffed. “I know, I should have seen it sooner.”

“ _ You're small, but you're talking loud _ .” Tony suddenly talked over you at the same time Steve from the past announced his departure to coordinate Search and Rescue downstairs.

“Steve, are you in position?” You asked. “You will have to take me down. Tony, I’ll be positioned at a dead angle beside the elevator so I will join the team once they’re in the lobby. Tony, get Scott in.”

“ _ I’m in position _ .” Steve confirmed.

_ “All right, you're up, little buddy _ .” The rest was muffled as Tony found a way to get Scott on his past self and inside his arc reactor. “ _ All right, Cap. I got our scepter in the elevator just passing the 80th floor.” _

_ “On it. Head to the lobby.” _

_ “Alright. I'll see you there.” _

“Finally,” You muttered to yourself, getting anxious by the minute.

Tony joined you in the lobby dressed in SHIELD gear, helmet screwed on his head to prevent anyone recognising him. He winked at you when he walked past and stopped a couple of feet from you. Rolling your eyes, you watched intently the moment Tony and Thor accompanied by Loki in cuffs got out of the elevator, attracting all the attention on them from everyone in the lobby.

Tony turned to you and you answered the tilt of his head with a nod of your own. With fierce determination in your steps, you made your way toward Tony and Thor.

“Gentlemen,” You said, “I’m… Agent Buchanan from STRIKE Task Force. Your escort assigned by Agent Brock Rumlow and Agent Sitwell.” 

_ “Thumbelina, do you copy? I've got eyes on the prize. It's go-time.” _

_ “Bombs away… is that Axe Body Spray?" _

_ "Yeah, I had a can just for emergencies. Relax. Can we focus, please?” _

_ “I'm going inside you. Now.” _

You quickly glanced down at Tony’s chest where his arc reactor was glowing beneath his shirt. The younger version of Tony in front of you raised a brow while Thor clapped his hands enthusiastically.

“Excellent,” The God said.

“Right. The more the merrier,” Tony said after looking backward at the already small army of SHIELD guards circling Loki.

Turning your attention to the dark-haired God for a furtive moment before heading out of the tower, you authorized yourself to assess the person who caused such destruction and who later, much later, would sacrifice himself to save his dearly detested brother. He was more intimidating than you had remembered and even if his mouth was sealed by a device concealing his ability to speak, you could clearly see the smirk painting his high-cheekbones as he looked right at you with a glint of recognition in his eyes, as if he knew right away you weren’t of this decade. You couldn’t fool mischief itself.

“May I ask you where you're going?” 

Your blood turned ice cold at the voice emerging from behind you. 

“To lunch and then Asgard. I'm sorry, you are?” Thor asked, absolutely unbothered by the man’s presence.

“Alexander Pierce,” You said in unison with Tony.

“He's the man, one of the folks behind Nick Fury." Tony continued and your ears were ringing with the sudden rage flowing through your body at the sight of Alexander Pierce standing right before you, the conversation happening drowned by your blinding urge to kill the man on the spot.

The disgust intensified when he didn’t even pay attention to you, basically dismissing you instantly. 

_ “Y/N? Hey, Y/N, abort mission. I repeat, stand down. Don’t do anything stupid, it’s not worth it.” _ Tony said in your ear but that, too, was immediately rejected, only underwater noises for you.

“I need the case.” Pierce said again and this time, you acted.

You grabbed the case from Tony’s hands and stood up straight, facing Pierce with a challenging expression. “The case is coming with us, Mr. Secretary.”

“Who even are you?” He finally looked at you.

“STRIKE Task Force, Agent Rumlow himself sent me to help escort Mr. Stark and Thor with their prisoner.”

“Agent Rumlow answers to me, and you, him. So I won’t repeat myself again, Agent…” 

“Buchanan.” You answered and his eyes narrowed.

_ “Do it, Lang!” _

Pierce grabbed the handle of the case, his fist closing around yours, trying to yank it from your grasp.

_ “Window's closing. Pull my pin!” _

“Try that again,” You whispered lowly, dangerously. “And I can assure you The Winter Soldier himself you keep in that frozen cage won’t be your worst nightmare.  _ I  _ will.”

_ “Here it goes!” _

Tony from the past suddenly cried out in pain as Scott pulled the pin inside his reactor. He collapsed on the floor as he started to convulse and clutch at it in a desperate attempt to put it back on track, gasping and looking at Thor with imploring eyes as they all kneeled around him. Pierce himself was worryingly crouched beside them, confused and oblivious when you slowly made your exit to join Tony behind you who was watching the whole commotion with a weird amusement toward his own self suffering a heart attack.

Loki made eye contact with you, the smirk was gone and replaced by a single brow raised in its place. You pressed your forefinger against your lips, a mock show of who had the upper hand now and he cocked his head to the side, watching you go with avid curiosity.

“Good job. Meet me in the alley. I'm gonna grab a quick slice.” Tony said but was cut short by the booming entrance of Hulk furiously knocking down the door who bounced back on Tony and you in the process with abrupt force.

You involuntarily dropped the case by the sheer shock of it and the case crashed against the floor, making the Tesseract inside fly toward the row of SHIELD agents and finish its course bumping into Loki’s foot. 

“No. No, no, no…” You pleaded, getting back on your feet and ran in the direction of Loki.

Loki didn’t hesitate to bend down and retrieve it, the cosmic cube glowing in his hands. He turned to you and imitated your previous gesture, pushing his own forefinger against the device locked on his lower face and a blue portal formed around him, teleporting him right away in another dimension and taking the Space Stone, and with him your chance of a successful mission.

“We have to go,” Tony urged, grabbing your elbow. “Now. We can’t be seen leaving the building.”

“Fuck!” With a defeated slump of your shoulder, you let Tony lead you out of the building.

You heard rather than saw Steve’s arrival half an hour later, sitting on the hood of a wrecked car while both Tony and Scott were occupying the less ruined seats. You had blown it, the whole mission was now jeopardised because of your mistake.

“Cap,” Tony said and that caught your attention.

Steve, bruised and battered, approached with the scepter in hand.

“Sorry, buddy. We got a problem.”

“Huh. Yeah, we do.” Scott said and you had never heard Scott sound that angry before.

“Well, what are we gonna do now?”

“You know what? Give me a break, Steve. I just got hit in the head with the Hulk.”

Steve’s eyes found yours and you could clearly see he was about to ask if you were okay, seeing the trail of fresh blood trickling down your temple. You shook your head at him and jumped on your feet, taking a couple of steps away from the three men, kicking dirt with the heel of your boot. 

Looking down at the GPS on your wrist, you waited for the heated conversation taking place behind you to die down, blaming yourself enough as it was to add any more fuel to the fire.

“Well, it looks like we're improvising.” You heard Tony say.

“Right. What are we improvising?” Scott asked, at loss of what Tony and Steve had decided.

“Y/N, Scott, get this back to the compound.” Tony handed you the scepter without leaving room for argument and turned back to Steve. “Suit up.”

Which you contested immediately by giving the scepter over to Scott.

“I’m coming with you.” You said to Steve and Tony.

“You wait for us at the compound, it’s too risky for the three of us.” 

“Sorry, Tony, your lips are moving but I learned not to care.” You said, “It was much more my mistake than it was yours, I won’t be able to sleep at night knowing I did this and couldn’t at least try to make amends.” 

“If you do this, and this doesn't work, you're not coming back.” Scott said behind you. 

“Then take care of my cat for me, please. Her name’s Alpine.” You raised your hand, ready to punch the coordinates in the GPS, intently watching Tony and Steve as you waited.

The two men glanced at each other and sighed, Steve nodded at you, giving in. 

“This could be a one-way ticket only, Y/N.” Tony warned.

“I know, I’ll take my chances.” 

“If that’s what you want.” Tony faced Steve, the mask slipped for a second and you could see raw emotions flash behind Tony’s eyes as he watched Steve. “Do you trust me?”

“I do.” Steve answered and shook Tony’s hand. “With my life.”

It took a moment for Tony to let go of Steve’s hand, the gesture frozen in time and speaking volumes. “Your call.”

“Here we go.”

“0-4… 0-7… 1-9-7-0…”

“I hate skirts with a burning passion.” You complained, tugging at your tight pencil skirt to pull it lower on your thighs. “Sexist and patriarchal society--”

“Y/N, not now.” Steve said.

“Now’s the perfect moment, Steve, you never wore a skirt so please, I will complain all I want about it.”

“You’re the one who insisted on coming with us.”

“I’m wearing a tie and I haven’t said anything about it. And you know how much I despise them--” Tony said but Steve’s loud sigh covered up his babbling.

If you had found the forties to be an unpleasant experience, the seventies were another level of offense and outrage altogether. The place reeked of cold cigarette smoke and gunpowder, which you wondered how the two hadn’t had the chance to mix together and make the whole place explode.

“Clearly, you weren't actually born here, right?” Tony asked Steve as the three of you walked by a sign saying ‘PLACE OF BIRTH OF CAPTAIN AMERICA’.

“The idea of me was.”

“Right. Well, imagine you're SHIELD, running a quasi-fascistic intelligence organization. Where do you hide it?”

“In plain sight.”

Tony fidgeted with his red and gold glasses, wordlessly asking FRIDAY to scan the bunker standing in the middle of the place, undetected and unquestioned.

“Classic Nazi technique. Always hiding in plain sight.” You groaned, “How do we access it?”

“Follow me.” Steve said and you walked along the pavement, keeping a close eye on your surroundings as the sound of your heels echoed too loudly with each of your steps.

“While we go looking for an entrance, care to explain how you got your own face smashed, Steve?” You asked. 

“Fighting my own self is not something I wish to repeat. Especially when I’ve been fresh out of the ice and the only words I knew were ‘I can do this all day’, next time punch me in the face too, I sound like a broken record.” 

“Or night.” Tony pointed out. “Word for word, Steve, you said them.”

“Really, Tony? You want to do this now?” 

“Right, fair enough, you need to focus. And for that you need all the blood necessary up in your brain, not down.” 

“Guys,” You warned as you entered a building. You still glanced at Steve to witness his spectacular blush rising on his cheeks. Luckily for him, he was wearing sunglasses.

“Focus.” Steve said.

“Yeah, focus, Y/N! You’re distracting him.”

“ _ Tony _ !” Steve whispered harshly.

You stopped in front of an elevator and pressed the button, enjoying the banter tremendously. The situation called for precise and acute rigor and attention and yet, Tony was still trying to lighten the mood.

“I know you’re dying to kiss me right now, I’m aware I look incredibly fine in grandpa clothes but we gotta focus, Steve. Some other time, okay?”

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” You chuckled.

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. You pushed yourself in the restricted place, squeezing in with another Agent who was at the moment pretending to read a file when she actually was painfully obvious in her staring. Tony noticed her insistent gaze on Steve and took a slight step in front of Steve to shield him with his own body. You couldn’t have Steve being recognised after twenty-five years spent missing and declared dead to now rise suspicions because of one misstep. 

As the elevator rode further below, you felt your guts sink with it after each passing second. Until it finally stopped on Tony’s floor. 

“Good luck on your mission, Captain.” Tony said, leaving. “And to you, Agent.”

“Good luck on your project, Doctor.” Steve answered.

“You're new here?” The lady Agent asked, her eyes still on Steve.

“Not exactly.” He responded vaguely.

“I am.” You said in a fake, friendly tone, diverting her attention toward you instead. “Nice to meet you.”

The woman hummed and assessed you up and down the same way she did with Tony and Steve.

“Could you point us in the direction of Doctor Pym’s lab? I have his results for his latest experiments.”

“That’d be my floor. 5-B, east wing.” 

“Thank you, ma’am.” You smiled, “Have a nice day.” 

Quickly making your way to Hank Pym’s lab with Steve in tow, you found it just where the woman said it would be. Not a trap, then. Your time here was on the borrowed side, every second counted and fighting your way out wasn’t ideal.

You firmly knocked two times on the door of the lab, waiting for a younger version of Doctor Hank Pym to answer. 

“Yes?”

“Doctor Pym,” You faked another smile, more flirty than on the friendly side this time and continued. “I’m Agent Buchanan and this is Captain Stevens from shipment. We have concerning news about a package that arrived under your name.”

“Bring it up.” He said.

“Well, that's the thing, sir. We can't.” Steve stepped next to you and you nodded along.

“I'm confused. I thought that was your job.” Pym leaned against the doorframe, not seeming to believe you.

“Well, it's just– Sir, the box is glowing and, to be honest, some of our mail guys aren't feeling that great.” You added to Steve’s speech.

That finally did the trick. “They didn't open it, did they?”

“Yeah, they did. You better get down here.” 

“We’ll have to report the incident and maybe destroy the package if it’s not conform to security protocols, Doctor.” You said with an apologetic face.

Pym blanched. “Excuse me! Out of the way!”

Entering the lab, Steve spotted the particles first. He gave you one and you looked at it, nestled in your palm, handling it like it was the most precious thing in the world. 

“We got our return ticket, Steve. We did it.” 

“Let’s not jinx it. I will agree with you when we’ll be out of here and we’ll have eyes on Tony again.” Steve pocketed two small containers. “The mission’s not over yet.”

Inhaling deeply, you rolled your shoulders and got out of the lab, ignoring the ache in your feet caused by your heels crushing your toes.

“Shit.” You said, “Steve, look.”

Nodding in the direction of the woman you recognised from your ride in the elevator, your heart stopped at the speed she and two officers were walking toward you.

“We haven’t been spotted yet.” 

“In here, Y/N.” Steve opened the first door to his right and you both ushered inside, praying for it to be empty.

The office was dark upon entering and no visible sign of life could be seen or heard inside. Now you just needed the right moment to make your exit, finding the perfect opportunity to remain out of view, your patience being tested again.

Turning on the lamp on the desk to create a dim source of light, the room finally revealed itself to you. You padded around the room, looking for anything remotely interesting or that could be of use.

Steve made sure the door was locked, checking the lock once and then a second time for good measure. His chest felt tight, his heart hammering furiously inside as he closed his hands in fists, taking deep, controlled breaths to calm himself down.

“Steve, you okay there?” 

He let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head fondly but also exasperatedly. You recognised perfectly well that behavior and knew already what Steve was about to say.

“Tony.”

“Steve, I know you’re in love but we have to move. We don’t have time for that.”

“I can’t lose him, Y/N.” The cap on his head casting a shadow over his wide eyes, you’ve never seen him so terrified before. “I can’t. I know he doesn’t need protection but if we get caught, if all this goes wrong, then I’m gonna lose him and I’m  _ scared _ .”

“We’ll all get out of here in one piece.” You promised him. “I swear to you on Bucky’s head, you won’t lose Tony, Steve. I don't want to see you go through what I’ve been through, I would never wish that to anybody, not even my worst enemy.”

Seeing Steve in this state, standing at the very center of where Captain America was born, reminded you only of the scrawny kid from Brooklyn instead. He’d never been afraid to face death, to punch it right in the face without hesitation, but that just wasn’t an option anymore. Not when the man he loved might be needing him and vice-versa, Tony having his calls for help unanswered.

“I can’t even check on him.” Steve said.

“Hey, if we don’t find him it’s because he will find us first.” 

“I know he’s alright, I can… feel it, but it’s our last chance. Our very last one. I told him, no do-overs--”

“And yet, he did find an alternative to our problem.” You smiled softly. “Remember who you’re talking about, Steve. That’s just irrational thinking, and I get it, but we gotta put ourselves together. Come on, you did that for me when I needed it most, let me do the same for you.”

“When this is all over,” Steve said quietly. “When we get everyone back, when the world won’t need Tony or me specifically, I’m putting down the shield.”

“Are you telling me you’re intending to quit?” You stopped in your tracks.

“Just wishful thinking. Getting Tony to rest would take some more elbow-grease.”

Steve exhaled, letting out all the accumulated stress of the day and took a moment for himself to gather his thoughts. He leaned against the desk, holding his weight on his hands on either side of him. You returned to your snooping but Steve’s hand bumped into something on the desk.

“Y/N,”

“What?” You opened another drawer, shuffling through documents that looked written in German to you.

“You might want to take a look at this.” Steve’s voice was thin and it made you frown.

Standing now stiff and taut next to you, you eyed warily the file Steve was holding. You grabbed it from his hands and read the title: ‘James Barnes– military record of service, deployment and experiments from the KGB of the Dnepropetrovsk Region.’

“Oh, God. Does that mean--”

Steve and you turned the light to the door, reading the name plastered on the transparent window. 

“We’re in Zola’s office.” You said.

“And this is Bucky’s file.” 

“I’m gonna go kill Zola myself.” 

“He could be back any minute,” Steve unlocked the door and peeked outside. “We’re in the clear. Let’s go.” 

When you didn’t join him and stayed firmly planted in the middle of the room, still going through Bucky’s file, you came to a decision.

“Y/N?”

Fishing for the red bottle in the strap of your bra, you gave it back to Steve. “I’m staying, Steve.”

“What?!” Steve whisper-yelled.

“It’s my second chance to save Bucky. I have to take it.”

“He’s not your Bucky, Y/N. You have to let him go.” Steve emphasised by pointing a finger on the military headshot of Bucky attached in the file. 

“I owe it to him. I have to help.”

“It’s too late,” Steve pleaded. “I promise you, I’m going to get him back to you but you have to come home with us first. What am I supposed to tell him when he’ll be back with the others and he doesn’t see you? Everybody would be reunited, Tony and Peter, Scott and Hope, Okoye and T’Challa. Except for him because you decided to hold onto a version of him that doesn’t know you.”

Begrudgingly, you nodded your head. You snapped the file shut and pushed away the horrors swimming in your head. It hurt to be helpless, to have no choice but to give up on this Bucky again, to not leave him a chance at a happy and normal life. 

But you were in 1970, Bucky was already long gone and saving The Winter Soldier by yourself would only result in your own stupid death. HYDRA was everywhere and even if you tried to dismantle their empire, who would believe you anyway?

“Let’s stick to the plan.” 

Steve slid his hand in yours and squeezed it reassuringly. “Let’s go home.”

The sun outside was too bright, assaulting your eyes that previously adjusted to the dark office of Zola. You clutched the file in your hand tighter, anxiously standing beside Steve and trying to appear as unsuspicious as possible. His eyes were frantically scanning the place, working back and forth in the same perimeter again and again until every muscle in his body went rigid.

“Howard’s here.” He said.

“Howard? As in, Howard Stark? Tony’s dad?”

Steve jerked his head to his left and you leaned forward slightly to take a peek. 

Here was Tony, deep in conversation with a man that shared similar features with him. As if Tony sensed your eyes on him, he raised a briefcase from afar, signaling you he was in possession of the Tesseract. Steve discreetly gave him a thumb up and you finally felt your body relax. Your mistake now erased and accounted for.

Using the same narrow alley giving to the fence you made a hole in, you kicked off your high heels whereas Steve jumped on the occasion to be hidden from prying eyes to push Tony against the fence with all his strength. 

Tony let out a strangled yelp but the sound was swallowed by Steve’s mouth against his. Steve cupped the sides of his face with both hands and kissed him fiercely, pouring all his frustration and relief in the chaste press of lips.

“I did get that kiss, after all.” Tony joked after they broke apart. He licked his lips and grabbed one of Steve’s hands that was still holding his face. “Missed me?”

“Not everything is a joke, Tony.” Steve pressed their foreheads together.

“It wasn’t. What happened? Not that I’m complaining but--” Another kiss. “You’ve never been one for PDAs before.”

“There’s no one else, we’re safe.” 

You cleared your throat loudly, crossing your arms with a smirk.

“You don’t count,” said Tony. “You’ve seen us doing that for five years.”

“I sure saw worse, yeah. Like that time I came back a day early from Washington and caught you on the couch. That’s something my eyes will never forget.” 

“That was  _ one  _ time!” 

Steve chuckled and buried his face in the crook of Tony’s neck, taking what he needed there: comfort, love, safety. 

“Come on, lovebirds. Save some for the celebration back at home.” You hurried and Steve and Tony joined you outside of the fence, the three of you pushing the button on your GPS at the same time.


	7. Believing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh you guys, I waited for this moment for soooo long... This chapter is basically the very reason why this story even exists, I have dreamt and spent countless hours imagining the perfect scenario for this, and finally, it's happening!
> 
> Be warned, this is when I start messing with Endgame's ending. A few modifications have been done for some characters from here on out and therefore making it my own canon.
> 
> Now hope you enjoy this slightly shorter but action packed chapter!!!

The multiple trips in a very short window of time through the quantum realm made you dizzy and on the verge of feeling nauseous once you materialized back on the platform in the safety of the compound. 

“Did we get them all?” Bruce asked and you could see soft green hue emanating from his closed fist.

“You telling me this'll actually work?” Rhodey wondered, optimistic.

Scott was holding the scepter as instructed, Tony had the briefcase in hand, and Nebula had a purple orb. 

Time Stone. Space Stone. Mind Stone. Power Stone. And for the Soul Stone, you checked for Natasha and Clint.

Except one of them was missing and Natasha was looking down at the orange glow in her palm, silent tears streaming down her face. 

“Nat, where’s Clint?”

The silence from Natasha told you all you needed to know. The mission was completed but at a dire cost: the sacrifice and death of Clint. A soul for a soul, his life for the lives of billions.

Overwhelming sadness overtook all of you as Bruce fell to his knees, pounding the fragile glass in grief. Natasha, still quiet, was shaking by the intensensity of her heartbreak and you were the first to shake yourself out of the initial shock. Wrapping your arms around Natasha, you shushed her as she finally broke down and let out sobs that you could feel vibrating against your own body. 

Memories of Laura, Lila and Cooper flashed in your mind. You thought about his younger son too, the one you never had the chance to meet yet and how, if you brought your mission to term, they would grow older without a husband and a father. Your heart seized and your own tears fell down your cheeks but you blinked them back stubbornly, remaining strong for the broken woman in your arms.

Natasha had given you no pity, had not spared your feelings and hadn’t walked on eggshells around you when you were at your lowest, and still to this day it had proved just how she had valued your friendship. It was time to be the person she had been to you back then.

You withdrew the Stone from her tight grip and passed it to Steve who he and Tony gathered the rest of them to store somewhere else, as long as they were secured.

After giving each other some space and time to process what just happened, the rest of the team, and yourself along with Natasha, gathered at the small dock by the lakeside. 

Natasha, defeated and hollow, sat on a bench where she left the other half empty for you to join her. 

“His family,” She said quietly. “He told me to take care of them.”

“We all will. They won’t be alone.” You said as you rubbed her back gently back and forth.

“You're acting like he’s dead. Why are we acting like he’s dead? We have the stones, right? As long as we have the stones, Cap, we can bring him back, isn't that right?” Thor growled. “So stop this shit. We're the Avengers, get it together!”

“We can’t get him back.” Natasha said.

“Wha– what?”

“It can’t be undone. It can’t.”

Thor laughed dryly. “I'm sorry. No offense, but you're a very earthly being. Okay? We're talking about space magic. And ‘can't’ seems very definitive, don't you think?”

“Thor,” You hissed. “That was really uncalled for.”

“You weren’t there, Thor.” Natasha sent him a stern look. “It was supposed to be me. He sacrificed his life for that stone. He bet his life on it.”

In a burst of anger, Bruce grabbed one of the empty benches and hurled it clear across the lake. His anger spent, he turned to the group of you with a resigned look on his face.

“He's not coming back. We have to make it worth it. We have to.”

Steve dried his tears with the back of his sleeves. “We will.” 

“Bruce is right,” You said, “We lost one of our own, but we’re getting the rest back. Without what he did for us, it would have never worked. And now we have to finish the mission, for Clint, for his family.”

“We were his family, too.” Steve said.

“And this is exactly why this mission needs to be successful, failing is not an option. Because not only we will fail half the population on the planet, but also because Clint’s death would be in vain.”

When the dock cleared and you and Natasha were the only one left, you took her hand in yours and squeezed it.

“You can say no but if you want, you could spend the night with me and Alpine.” You told her, “Just like we did all those years ago. Tables have turned now but don’t stay alone, Nat. It won’t do you any good.”

Her glimmering eyes met yours and a ghost of a smile graced her lips. “I would like that, actually.” 

“Great, I will get all the disgustingly sweet snacks this time.” 

“Thank you,” She said in a whisper. “Thank you for being there and not looking at me like they all do.”

“I would never. I’m just exchanging the same courtesy you once offered me. I didn’t know it yet, that there was a sliver of a chance to hope again, and now that we’re close to our goal, it’s you who need me.”

Natasha dropped her head on your shoulder, pressing her temple against your collarbone as she suppressed another sniffle. She didn’t want to be seen crying again, you guessed.

That night, Alpine curled up in Natasha’s arms, purring so loudly you wondered if it just wasn’t to spite you. That cat always needed the last word and you said it again, she was too clever for her own good. Fortunately for Natasha, purring had scientific effects on somebody’s sorrow and she quickly fell asleep after a good half hour spent solely cuddling that fluff ball. She must have been utterly exhausted, both physically from the mission in the first place, and mentally, losing her oldest friend just before he could see the labor of his hard work come to fruition.

“I was thinking,” You said over the breakfast you brought to bed to share with Natasha, who herself shared it with Alpine, “I need to put that little idiot somewhere safe if we’re going to use the stones here.”

Red and silver strands of hair fell softly in Natasha’s swollen eyes. “That’d be wise. Do you know someone you trust enough for that?” She said and looked at you over the rim of her mug.

“I do,” You replied, “And so do you.”

You had kept your promise to Annie, you had called her and sent pictures of Alpine whenever she let you take photos of her. The rapidity in which Annie replied left you speechless each time and you mostly hadn’t quite grasped the ability to speak emoji, but you progressively got the hang of it eventually.

“You’re certain she doesn’t know we’re coming?” Natasha asked, stroking Alpine’s ears from the confine of the carrier in her lap.

“Unless she is psychic, no, she is perfectly unaware we’re here.” You answered as you parked the car on a ‘staff only’ spot. 

Natasha hummed, resuming her petting. “I’ll miss her.”

“Alpine is mercilessly adorable, if you got a soft spot for her it means she is more deadly than I thought.” You joked.

“She caught Barnes of all people, I think that’s self-explanatory already.”

“Bucky is a softie at heart, don’t let his brooding look fool you. He’s an expert in that field.”

Natasha suddenly looked up, a soft look on her face. 

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re using present tense when you speak about him.”

“Did I?”

“It’s really good to see you like this again, we’re not quite there yet but I’m getting back the old Y/N I used to know and I can’t wait.”

“It’s just that— you know, he’s within arm’s reach now, I can feel it. It’s not reality yet but I’m so convinced it will work, I need this hope in order to survive, Nat. As I said to Clint before, I don’t know what I’ll do if we take a second defeat. I can’t even bring myself to imagine it. I refuse to be that person anymore, she needs out. It’s dangerous— a thought, an idea. It’s a double-edged sword but I've armed myself this time.”

Natasha averted her eyes at the mention of Clint, the warmth behind them fading immediately. But she pulled herself together and let out a shuddering breath, zipping Alpine’s carrier close with determination.

“This is it, then. Our last checkpoint before it’s finally over?” She asked, gazing at the orphanage’s gates.

“Before it finally starts again.”

Natasha and you made your way to the small house you knew very well by now, the route familiar and full of fond memories. You waved at a few kids brave enough to face the thundering rain and you stepped on the porch, knocking on the blue door with confidence.

Ashley, the second eldest of the siblings, answered the door and you never got tired of the way their eyes would comically grow bigger every time you showed up at their door. 

“Oh, hi, hey,” She stuttered, “Did not expect you. Come in!” 

Ashley urged you both to come inside quickly and away from the humidity clinging to your clothes.

“Who is it— oh, Mrs Barnes, Romanoff,”

“Jordan, please, how long have we known each other? It’s Y/N and you know it.” 

“Should I get Annie?” Ashley asked.

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

Ashley nodded her head and excused herself.

“Annie told us you were back together, the team, I mean.” Jordan politely yet curiously inquiered. The teenager was becoming a young adult but the boy in him was still very much alive and kicking when it came to childhood idols.

“Which reminds me, I got this for you.” You said and took out an envelope from your bag. “It’s for you.”

“What is it?”

“Take it, Jordan,” Natasha pressed and Jordan did as he was told.

Carefully taking the sealed envelope, Jordan opened it and gasped at the small treasure he found inside. He held the photograph as if it was the most fragile and precious thing in the world.

“Thank you so, so much! That’s the best gift ever.”

“Bruce has become really good at taking selfie lately,” Natasha said.

“He signed it and all,” 

“Signed it and all.” You repeated Jordan’s words of awe in amusement.

“It would cost a small fortune online,” He teased.

“Don’t you dare.” Natasha said coldly but a smile betrayed her murderous tone.

Loud and hurried footsteps broke the moment and Annie bodily threw herself at you in the most crushing hug a little girl could muster. Her right arm dug painfully in your ribs but you accepted your fate, there were worse ways to go, you thought.

“Annie, I can’t breathe,”

“Sorry, sorry, but It's been so long!” She said and another wave of guilt washed over you.

“I come with good news,” You said and dropped Alpine’s carrier on the floor. “In fact, I have a mission for you. All of you.”

Curious, they all eyed the carrier until Annie gasped, pointing at it. “Is it Alpine?”

“The one and only,” You answered solemnly and bent on one knee to retrieve Alpine, holding her in your arms. “I have something to ask you. There’s something we need to do, me, Natasha and the Avengers at home and it might be dangerous. Well, nothing is really safe when you wear the Avengers signet but it might be the most important mission of our lives, Annie, do you understand what I’m saying?” You waited for Annie’s acknowledgement. Which she responded to with a shy nod and swallowed thickly at how serious your voice became. “I need a favor, little one. I want you to take care of Alpine for me while we’re doing this, alright? I can’t say what it is for now but when it’s done, and hopefully it will be done, you will know. I need her to be safe and I know she would find herself the happiest here. If something happens to me--”

“No.” Annie cried out, you looked up and saw her eyes brimming with tears. “Everything will be alright, you’re a superhero!”

“It’s a lot to ask, but it’s really important to me and I trust you the most.” You cupped the side of her face and handed over Alpine to her. 

Annie gingerly accepted the cat in her arms, burrowing her face in her soft fur. Probably feeling bittersweet at the way her first encounter with Alpine happened. Annie whispered sweet nothings in the warmth of Alpine’s back while you and her siblings placed her bed in Annie’s bedroom, and put her litter box in the kitchen where the bowls were gathered next to it. You gave them a bag full of toys and other knick-knacks that belonged to Alpine and when everything was settled and ready, you accompanied Annie in her room and the two of you sat on the bed, feeling the weight of the moment grow heavier. 

“Promise me you’ll come back.” She said quietly.

“I would never lie to you, Annie. So I can’t promise you that.” You brushed a fallen strand of her hair and tucked it behind her ear. “However, I can promise you that I will try my hardest.” 

“Okay.”

“She needs a lot of attention.” You nodded to Alpine, “If she smells chicken, she will scream. She likes taking walks, so I included her leash and harness in the bag but don’t ever let her out alone, okay? Oh, and she will smother you in your sleep because she almost never goes in her bed, her favorite place to sleep is with you on your pillow and when she takes naps it’s under the bed covers tightly curled up against your stomach. She likes to play fetch like a dog and she will love you unconditionally, she absolutely loves children. You will get along great.”

Natasha came knocking after a moment, giving you an apologetic look. “Hey, we have to go. Clock’s ticking.”

Rain finally stopped pouring outside and your clothes were dry but that didn’t stop you from putting the heater on full blast once inside the car. Natasha swatted your hand away from the board after five suffocating minutes, cursing you for making her sweat. 

“If it was up to me, I could have sworn you were trying to asphyxiate me.” She said.

“I need to feel warm, Nat. Please, give me that.”

Natasha didn’t answer and turned the heat halfway up as a compromise. 

Warmth. 

You could poke at it with your fingertips like an apple hanging too far high on a branch but it was there, you could see it, feel it, you just needed a little bit more patience. 

Tony ambushed you in the lobby when you arrived at the compound, Natasha watched with a dubious look on her face as he led you to another room.

“How do you feel?” He asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Fine? Thrilled? Nervous? Petrified? Take your pick.”

“I, uh, got something made for you.” Tony pulled out a circle-shaped object from his pocket and showed it to you. 

“Tony you gotta stop putting star symbols in your designs for me.” You scoffed but accepted the odd object. “It’s heavier than I thought. What is it?”

“Nano-tech arc reactor.” 

“I-- what?” 

“For protection. You put it on above your suit and an armor will cover it as soon as you need it.”

“Tony--”

“Just listen to me.” He said impatiently. “We’re gonna snap our fingers but those stones, I don’t trust them. We don’t know what they’re made of, it’s magic, it’s something we can’t understand. So you put that on when you feel like you’ll need it so I will be able to sleep at night.” 

A lump formed in your throat and you nodded, not trusting your voice. Tony’s face finally relaxed and a trademark grin stretched on his lips.

“Okay. Okay, I will. Where do I place it? On my chest, like you?”

“On your shoulder.”

“Of course,” You rolled your eyes. “Seriously, though. Thank you.“

“Oh, and one last thing,” Tony said and paused for dramatic effects. “I named it ‘Frostbite’.” 

“...Really.” 

“Suit up.” He headed out, way too pleased with himself, “We’re gonna save the world!”

You eyed the star glowing faintly in your hand, cradling the arc reactor cautiously. 

Entering the testing chamber clad in your black and gold suit again for the first time in five years, the first thing you saw was the newly finished gauntlet. Each of the six stones resting in their own, definite place. The threatening aura they emanated sent a chill down your spine.

“All right. The glove's ready. Question is, who's gonna snap their freaking fingers?” Rocket asked as you all gathered around it.

“I’ll do it.” All eyes were on Thor, a mix of apprehension and hesitation swirled around the room.

“Excuse me?” Scott asked in his Ant-Man suit.

“It’s okay.” Thor said confidently and without preamble, he tried to reach for the glove.

Everyone acted instantly and held him up, preventing him to touch the gauntlet and possibly kill you all. A chorus of nos and waits and stops were heard among the commotion but Thor still put up a fight, apparently not enjoying being questioned whether he was capable and stable enough to hold such a powerful object or not.

The logical answer to this equation was simple and you all came to an agreement. The radiations of the stones being mostly gamma, Bruce had to be the one doing it. 

“You remember– everyone Thanos snapped away five years ago and just bringing them back to now, today. Don't change anything from the last five years.” Tony said.

“Got it.”

“FRIDAY, do me a favor and activate Barn Door Protocol. Will you? 

“Yes, boss.”

“Everybody comes home.” Bruce said.

The natural sunlight faded slightly in the room as it went into lockdown. All doors, windows, and each entry and exit points did not get spared, leaving you trapped inside the compound to face the consequences of Bruce snapping his fingers. Positive or negative, the aftermath relied on him not dying as he wielded the six stones all by himself. It was a one man job, there was nothing you could do but to wait as Bruce grunted in pain, the power surge overwhelming and the buzzing of the stones intensifying as they all activated themselves.

“Take it off! Take it off!” Thor urged but you weren’t afraid to step in his path, blocking him. You were so close, Bruce only needed to push himself to his limits a little more.

“No, wait. Bruce, are you okay?” Steve asked worriedly but didn’t intervene.

“Talk to me, Banner.” Tony ordered. It wasn’t a request.

“I'm okay.” Bruce talked through gritted teeth, he was clearly in pain but you admired his stubbornness. “I'm okay.”

The sudden parallel between Bruce’s tenacity reminded you of Steve’s courage to not give up when he was inside the vita-ray machine who made him who he was today. The little guy inside had always been the Steve you knew today, Steve had always told you such, so it wasn’t a surprise for you to see Steve give a chance to Bruce to prove himself now even if the latter looked clearly in pain. Something greater would come out and you and Steve shared the same look of optimism and determination upon seeing Bruce adjust the gauntlet on his hand.

Bruce’s scream echoed in the room, fighting through the intense pain coursing through his entire body now courtesy of the gauntlet. You could see his arm and right side of his face starting to burn but the unbelievable happened right before your eyes, something you’ve been waiting for for years without truly having much faith in its achievement.

Bruce managed to snap his fingers.

The next moment, he collapsed on the floor, fainting from the effort and, undoubtedly, the agony. The gauntlet slid off of him immediately and you kicked it away for safety measures. The components were melting around the stones, too hot and dangerous to touch.

“Bruce!” Steve and you said in unison as Steve ran up to him.

“Don’t move him.” Tony said.

“Did it work?” Bruce asked in a daze, holding onto Steve’s arm.

“Worth a shot. It's over. It's okay.” Thor soothed.

You saw Scott walk toward the outside window as it opened again, the lockdown now lifted. You remained by Natasha’s side, neither of you moving yet as you waited for any kind of sign the snap had been reversed. You had to push down the hope for a bit more, still not entirely sure what was currently happening.

“Guys– I think it worked!” Scott spoke up from the window, marveling at birds and plants outside you hadn’t seen around the compound for a while.

Was it the confirmation you were waiting for?

You opened your mouth except no sounds came out of it as they got drowned under a sudden explosion that blew you away in its course, sending you and Natasha flying several floors underground and you both landed in a pile of ruins and broken pipes around you.

Coughing up dust and blood, you opened your eyes with difficulty and groaned as you dragged yourself on your feet. You rubbed your eyes, pushing the heels of your palms as hard as you could to make you focus and force away the dizziness. You felt light-headed and your legs were quivering but everything vanished the moment you spotted Natasha unconscious on the ground. You brushed the grime out of her face as best as you could but something behind you made you freeze mid-motion. 

“Natasha. Nat. Nat!” You not-so-gently shook her awake, her eyes settling on you without much recognition at first then she shot up, holding onto you as leverage as she stood on equally wobbly legs.

“What happened?”

“We’re not alone,” You murmured, glancing behind you as the noises crept closer and closer. 

Natasha understood the meaning behind your words and discarded something from her belt, throwing it down the dark tunnel. The energy beam lit up the narrow space and your worst-case scenario got confirmed the moment you saw Outriders crawling fast toward you. Your foot bumped into something and you cursed, seeing the gauntlet laying there, the stones still glowing and unattainable.

“We gotta move,” Natasha said, “Now!”

You picked up the gauntlet and clung onto it for dear life as you and Natasha ran blindly in the tunnel, fight or flight response kicking in. The Outriders growled and sped up as water splashed around you. You searched for an exit, a hole in the wall, anything that could give you access to the outside world and flee from the possibility of being killed by those monsters. They gained territory at a fast pace, their claws and teeth almost grazing you more than once in the process but you fought back, unwilling to be defeated so close to the victory. 

The hidden blade on your forearm met flesh and blood as Natasha fried them up with her taser and other energy beams, you worked naturally well and in sync with each other, watching each other’s back quite literally as you were back to back when Outriders submerged you left and right. 

“Do you have explosives?” You yelled, you blade sinking in the meat of yet another Outrider on the wall.

“Why?”

“I’ve got an idea!”

“Y/N--”

“Trust me, Nat.” You fished for the star-shaped arc reactor in the inside of your suit and you shoved it atop your left shoulder, pressing the center to activate the mechanism. You instantly felt the nanobots working as they deployed and unfolded on your suit, the material stronger and infinitely more resilient. 

“Hold this.” You ordered Natasha, pushing the gauntlet in her arms, “I’ve got you!”

You didn’t have the time to properly enjoy Natasha’s flabbergasted expression at seeing your new gear, undeniably not expecting you to be wearing a bespoke version of an Iron Man suit. You wrapped an arm around her waist tightly and pressed both your bodies flush against the other. The small opening above your heads left little room to get through, there was no mistake allowed and the jets under your feet came alive and propelled you in the air, supporting Natasha’s weight as you tried to control the suit for the first time.

“Now!” You shouted and Natasha sent the small grenade to the floor at the same time you took off.

The smell of burnt flesh and blood assaulted your senses but the relief was short-lived as you caught the gauntlet mid-air, cursing out loud when you realised Natasha was too far out of reach for you and you crashed into the battlefield, the jets on your heels having blown up, the blast of energy sent by the explosion beneath you rendering them useless.

You rolled in dirt and debris, caging the gauntlet securingly in your arms to prevent it from falling into enemies’ hands. What awaited you above ground was a sight you never ever dreamt to behold one day; portals after portals appeared in the dark, gloomy sky, revealing friends and teammates you couldn’t yet distinguish from where you were standing.

Bucky’s name fell from your lips, your eyes scanning the crowd but you were too far and they were just shadows of blurry figures to you. 

Something flew by, whistling dangerously close to your ear and you thought about a bullet. The fear and realization of being in the middle of a battle came back to you like a punch in the guts. You made a beeline for the group, your group, and watched in bewilderment as the bullet in question wasn’t actually one but Mjolnir summoned by… Steve?

The jets still unresponsive and the helmet having broken off, your face was left exposed and vulnerable whereas your body remained protected by the armor, an extension of your Wakandan suit. The color black was still prominent but Tony had paid attention to details and had painted the screws and cracks between the armor’s plates to the same golden color the suit underneath sported, the same colors that matched Bucky’s arm. 

You were not very far anymore when the earth shook violently as you witnessed Scott emerging from below ground, glorious in the way he had outdone himself and grew the size of a building, flashbacks of Germany popping in your mind. Rows and rows of allies grew larger, you could recognise Wakandan soldiers but you were at a loss when it came to the others. 

You heaved a relieved sigh when you spotted Natasha, positioning yourself beside her and nodding at each other to confirm you were alright. Other people joined behind you, coming from portals still opening in every direction. You readied yourself in a fighting stance next, pulling out a dagger and Natasha held her staff firmly in her hand.

“Avengers--” Steve’s voice could be heard among the ranks, he handled Mjolnir with such ease you could have easily believed he had been born with the hammer in hand. 

If you didn’t know any better, it was the calm before the storm. Steve’s words triggered the sea of creatures charging toward you once he had said them. The fight of your life could finally start. 

"Assemble!" 

Sides collided, blurred and intertwined. You clutched the gauntlet protectively against you, trying to create yourself a path in the bloodshed. When you neared Steve, deep in destroying another alien soldier, he gave you a once-over when he spotted you among the ruckus. 

“That’s new!” You pointed to Mjolnir in his hand.

“That’s new.” He looked you up and down, his eyes roaming over your suit.

“What do you want me to do with this damn thing?”

“Get those stones as far away as possible, Y/N!” Steve replied in-between smashing an Outrider’s skull open.

“No! We need to get them back where they came from.” Bruce said next.

“No way to get them back. Thanos destroyed the quantum tunnel.” Tony’s voice boomed from above you, fighting other flying aliens.

“Hold on!” You saw Scott shrink to his normal size and take out a remote. “That wasn’t our only time machine.” He pressed a button and the sound of a horn was activated from afar.

Steve sped up, reaching higher ground to locate the van. “Anyone see an ugly, brown van up there?”

“Yes! But you're not gonna like where it's parked!” A feminine voice appeared above your head, you didn’t recognise her but the Pegasus she rode was all you needed to know she was one of Thor’s friends.

“That’s my cue, right?” You asked.

“Go!” Steve ordered.

“On it, Cap.” And you ran. 

You dodged bullets and other unknown deadly weapons aimed at you, fighting back one-armed with less grace than you anticipated, the dagger slippery with blood and guts. You could see Thanos from here, as righteous and arrogant as you remembered, and your blood boiled. The sight of him momentarily deflected you from your path, a short lapse in attention resulting in you flying in the air from an explosive thrown at you. You gasped, the air knocked out of your lungs, trying desperately to make your jets work for a possible softer landing. 

Bracing yourself for impact, you cried out in surprise when you were caught not by two arms but… six?

“I’ve got you!” A voice you recognised but couldn’t place said, the words muffled by his helmet. “Hang in there!”

The blow was absorbed by his body, his mechanical arms enveloping you safely as you bounced a couple of times before rolling to a stop. 

“Are you okay?” The young man withdrew but still caged you with his fake spider legs to form a barrier all around your body. “Oh, my God. I know you!”

“Peter?” You asked, taken aback then quickly realizing you shouldn’t have been so surprised to see him wearing a Spider-Man suit that was oddly familiar to your own design, both equally signed by Stark technology. 

“You know me?”

“Well, no, I don’t. But I feel like I do.” You accepted his outstretched hand, pulling you up on your feet. “Tony told me everything about you. It’s an honor to meet you, Spider-Man.”

Peter’s helmet popped off, his face combusted with awe and you could see his chest swell with pride. 

“Look, it was nice meeting you but we don’t have much time.” You handed him the gauntlet. “You can go way faster and higher than me.”

Peter nodded. “Karen, activate Instant Kill.” His helmet materialized back on his face and his lenses turned to an angry red, the program instantly pulling out the robotic legs out of his back to start stabbing aliens surrounding him ruthlessly. 

With his webshooters, Peter went airborne and started his journey to Scott’s van, leaving you both arms free to fight and start your own search for Bucky amidst the battle.

But a round of energy beams bounced off your chest plate and you stumbled backward, blocking out the projectiles as best as you could. You fell as one of the blasts grazed your cheek, drawing blood. The alien stepped closer to your helpless form sprawled on the ground, leaving you at its mercy while you tried to crawl to a safer place in vain.

He aimed, raising his weapon and… collapsed at your feet.

A bullet wound could be seen between his eyes, a clean shot through and through.

Grateful, you looked up to thank your savior but the words got stuck in your throat and your heart skipped completely.

Bucky lowered his gun, equal confusion and surprise colored his face.

“Doll?”

A deep shiver swept up your body at the sound of his voice.

Five years. You had waited five years to see him again, to hear his voice, and all you could do was to stare at him numbly. 

This time, he said your name and you sucked in a breath, pulling yourself back together.

Amongst enemy lines, amongst your own destroyed home, amongst the ache of your wounds and tired body, he managed to capture the entirety of your focus. Bucky, your Bucky, a sight to behold as he stood before you clear as the day you last saw him, and the fog dissipated in your head at last. 

Bucky didn’t move as you walked toward him, tracking your movements in search of any injury or trying to comprehend your outfit, you weren’t sure.

“You look changed.” He said, his flesh hand cupped the side of your face and wiped away the blood there with his thumb. The skin on skin contact sent a spark of electricity down your body.

“I feel changed.” You confessed, melting under his touch as you looked directly in his eyes.

“They told us it’s been five years.” You wanted to turn his frown upside down, to hug him, to touch him, but you were afraid that if you started to lose yourself in the present moment, you wouldn’t be able to stop the scream that had been perched under your chin for five years. 

One thousand eight hundred and twenty-five days. You had counted them, each and every one of them burnt in the hollow space of your heart.

He was real. 

Was he real?

Smoothing a hand in the middle of his chest, all you allowed yourself was the feeling of his heart beating under your palm.

“Tell me it’s really happening.”

“It’s real. It’s happening.” He said, “I’m here, Doll. It’s me. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have never left you.”

“No matter how many times I lose myself, all the paths will always lead back to you.” 

A small but genuine smile curled on Bucky’s lips and how you wished you could kiss it, taste it, but it wasn’t the right time. You had something to finish before going any further, victory wasn’t yet yours even if you already felt victorious. 

But the moment lasted longer than it should, pure instinct took over as you grabbed a knife from Bucky’s thigh holster and pushed him out of the way, tossing the knife across the field and scoring a bullseye in the skull of an alien sneaking up on you. 

“That was--”

“Don’t say it. I had a lot of time on my hands.” You removed the knife from the dead alien’s skull and wiped it clear of brain matter on your thigh. “Let’s go kill Thanos.”

Before you could act on your words, the cannons stopped firing above you and a bright light of thundering energy came surging down as Carol Danvers flew through the ship, resulting in an explosion and the ship crash-landing in the lake. 

“Peter.” You said quietly, your eyes searching for the boy in the sky worriedly. “I need to find Peter.” 

Without hesitation, Bucky nodded and raised his gun. “I’ll cover you.”

“Thank you.”

Bucky stopped you before you parted ways. “Be careful.” 

Quickly making sure the aliens were distracted enough with Carol’s entrance, you decided to make time for a stolen moment and threw yourself at Bucky, crashing your mouth against his. 

“I just got you back, I’m not going anywhere. You be careful.” You said against his lips. 

He tasted like home and you craved for more, but you were at a tipping point and on the verge of turning the tide, there was no time to waste. You jumped from ruin to ruin, slaloming between what was once your home. Bucky wasn’t far off, shooting your way out as you looked for a spider in red and gold, your guardian angel making sure you stayed safe.

You found him, or more accurately, found Carol as she located him first and you followed her trail. Peter was bleeding and hugging the gauntlet, refusing to let go even if he was injured and outnumbered. He handed the gauntlet to her, now happy to not be the bearer of its curse anymore.

“I don't know how you're gonna get it through all that.” It still baffled you at how young he sounded. 

“Don't worry.” Wanda said, landing next to you and Carol. Thor’s friend, and up close you recognised as a Valkyrie as she rode her Pegasus with grace, soon joined the three of you.

“She's got help.” Okoye pointed out and you glanced backward, noticing other women were now forming a barrier between enemies’ line and Peter, Carol leading with the gauntlet in her hand.

All you got in this moment was the knife in your grasp, the help of your teammates and friends, and the willpower of a new sun casting its light upon you.

Thanos’ army charged with a roar while you helped Carol going through the blockade, she eventually started flying past them and toward the van. But Thanos, upon seeing Carol defeat his soldiers with such ease, started running to her with the intention of stopping her. Shuri, Hope and you noticed him first, the others too busy taking down Leviathans and Outriders that slowly outnumbered you.You all nodded at the other and formed a defense line blocking Thanos from Carol’s path. Shuri and Hope raised their weapons, aiming at him while you reluctantly activated the repulsors of your suit, praying that the recoil would not send you flying backward. 

Memories of Siberia, of a mild concussion rattling inside your skull and of broken ribs after being violently hit from Tony's blast, of Bucky's arm being blown to pieces, it all resurfaced bitterly in the back of your mind when the repulsors in your palms charged up threateningly. There was no time available for you to take a moment to push away the fear that you tried to conceal from the weapons you now were handling, you couldn't delay the inevitable any longer, and you raised your trembling hands. 

You fired at the same time as the other two women, blasting Thanos at maximum capacity but he did not so much as budge a single toe, and instead, threw his double sword into the quantum tunnel to destroy it with all his might. 

Carol lost her grip on the gauntlet, you watched as it collided on the ground, and hoped for a miracle. In the final brawl for it, it was Tony who was the closest to it, but both him and Thanos reached at the same time. Tony got tackled and smacked away, Thanos knocking him out like a ragdoll. 

Dread curled low in your stomach, Thanos was too close to getting the gauntlet again, and history almost repeated itself when he picked it up. Carol had time to recover in the meantime and was back on her feet as she intercepted the moment before Thanos slid his hand in the gauntlet again. She punched him, again and again, but he overpowered her, grabbing her by the arm and flinging her away. Thanos jumped on the occasion and put on the gauntlet, gamma radiation swirling as he tried to snap, but Carol arose again, and stopped his fingers from snapping, opening up his hand similar to what Steve did in Wakanda the first time around.

Headbutting her, Carol didn’t even flinch just as she gained the upper hand by rising up and forcing Thanos onto his knees. Thanos pulled the Power Stone out of the gauntlet and used it in his free hand to hit Carol away, her being too powerful to stop with his bare hands only. 

The fight wasn’t yet over, but it felt like it would end in another defeat as Thanos put the Power Stone back in the gauntlet, crying out from the gamma radiation coursing through him. 

In a last desperate attempt, Tony lurched at him, pulling on the gauntlet before Thanos punched him away.

“I am– inevitable.”

Thanos snapped his fingers as you fell to your knees, accepting the fact that the short burst of comfort you felt at being able to see Bucky again was only a fleeting affair. Fate had other plans for the both of you, cursing you again no matter how hard you tried to be together.

Except, nothing happened. The hollow snap of his metallic fingers echoed as everybody held their breath. Thanos looked at the gauntlet and to his shock, saw them missing. 

Tony rose on his knees, a serious and resolute look on his face. He raised his right arm and the stones moved, finding their places accordingly on Tony’s own Iron Man gauntlet. It will kill him, your first thought was. Tony, under all that genius and sarcasm, remained a human being, and weidling the stones all by himself would sign his death warrant. 

“And I– am– Iron Man.”

His fingers moved, on the verge to snap them, when Steve’s deafening voice broke you out of your trance, your mind balancing between two realities. Steve joined Tony’s side, where you had always seen him belong, and grabbed Tony’s free hand, refusing to let Tony go through it alone. The power flowed between their joined bodies, sharing it, balancing it out together. But it wasn’t enough, Steve might have the serum in his veins, the stones were too relentless and powerful. Deathly.

Tony’s arc reactor glowed brighter and you saw Tony redirect the stone’s energy to overpower it, amplifying the arc reactor’s resources to create more nanoparticles, and therefore, progressively build a protective layer atop Steve’s suit like a second skin.

And like your own.

The stones were eating away the suit, Tony wasn’t strong enough and the clock ticked louder, pressing and pressuring, splitting your heart in two. Tony’s suit was failing to protect him, preferring to give the last of his strength to Steve in his stead. 

An idea sparked in your mind and it could potentially work, you wondered, but you needed to be fast.

You looked around and found Bucky standing near Wanda who was still shooting red energy beams at Outriders. A brief moment of clarity etched its way onto you as he felt your eyes on him and you made eye-contact. Amidst the bloodbath and the chaos, the obstinate glint he found in them made him shake his head. But it was already too late, you had made up your mind. 

The sound of blades meeting flesh, bodies collapsing on ground, grunts and victory cries, all muffled, you vaguely registered them at all as you put your hand above your heart and mouthed the three most important words at him. 

“I love you.”

Bucky dropped his gun and chased after you, shouting your name and pleading you to not do this but your body was moving already, untouchable as you ignored the numerous corpses of foes and allies alike in your wake, the blood sticky and slippery on your clenched fists. 

You arrived first, Bucky in tow, but three things happened at the same time your hand closed around Steve’s.

Three. By the time Bucky reached you, skidding on his knees into mud and dirt, he tried to remove your grasp on Steve but the power surging inside of you was too strong and your hands were locked in a vicious grip. The moment Bucky touched you, you felt him unintentionally partake in the human chain as four bodies now shared the weight of the stones together. 

Two. Tony, bleeding and now half exposed on his right side, snapped his fingers.

And one, everything around you went dark as unconsciousness pulled you under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you wish to see what the reader's armor looks like, my very dear friend made a manip based on Pepper's Rescue suit and I've posted it on my tumblr, go take a look :) and, um, sorry for the cliffhanger... Or am I?

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr @ kidney-bean-writes :) come say hi!


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